Russian Roulette
by Erin Peepsta
Summary: A too good to be true vacation to Russia, reveals to have a more sinister purpose. Follow a group of close friends as they are thrown into a twisted game of Russian Roulette. What happens when one decides to play? Please rate and review
1. Preamble

The day started out like any other school day, I get through my first two classes and find my self in 20th Centuries honors. After the announcements have drawled over, Miss. Hinz, our teacher, starts with the usual greeting, "Alright ladies and gentlemen we're going to take a break from the usual studies to fill out a sweepstakes application." She drawls. Murmurs fill the room as she continues, "Our school is participating in a sweepstakes. The prize? Eight students will win a trip to Moscow, Russia all expense paid. That also includes the heavy clothing needed for the cold weather and blah, blah, blah." She ends with an irritated tone in her voice.

A boy in the class raises his hand, blinking, "You don't sound too happy about this." He squeaks out.

Hinz nods, her short brown hair bobbing with, "Yeah because I don't have the opportunity to go too. Now fill these sheet things out so we can start class." She said, sighing in defeat as she hands out sheets to the heads of the rows. From there, they were passed back. Thinking nothing of it, I fill out the sheet and pass it back up. My mind wanders back into day-dream land, drifting in and out of Hinz's lecturing on the history of Russia.

Damn, who'd have known how this information would help me later…

* * *

Author's note: :) Well, this is an extremely short first chapter, but it's sort of a preview of what's to come. This has nothing to do with my 'A fine line' story, even if the main characters do share first names, they are NOT the same! So don't get confused, I just have a tensity to use 'Erin' as the first name for a lot of character because I suck at coming up with other names. Well, it's going to take a little while for a notable character to actually jump into the story. But please don't let that discourage you from reading this! Please rate and review!


	2. Too good to be true

A/N: I just want to throw a note in to explain the pronunciation of my friend's name, Moli. It is not _Moley_, its pronounced Molly. But her full name is Amolia, so that's how it gets shorten funny. So, don't pronounce it wrong or I'll hit you with a shoe! Well, now please enjoy this chapter of _Russian roulette! _

A couple days later, I'm collecting my stuff from my desk before the bell when I hear my name get called down to the office along with my friend, Moli. Puzzled, I start down to the office. Panic grips me as I wonder why I'm needed in the office-or Moli for that fact. Moli never gets in trouble, she's not like that. But I always manage to say stupid things and I guess it finally caught up to me. I'm completely lost in my thoughts that I don't hear Moli yelling my name till she rams into me. The action causes a yelp to escape my lips.

Moli scowls at me childishly through her thin framed glasses, her blue eyes not pleased with me, "Helloooooo! I've been screaming at you for the past few minutes!" she growls, stomping along next to me as her straight long dirty blonde hair sways behind her.

I smile sheepishly as I stop at my locker, "Ah, sorry! I was just lost in my thoughts-Aaaand what did you do?!" I shout, changing subject matter dramatically.

Moli pulls at her face, "AHH! I DON'T KNOOOOW!! I SWEAR IT WAS MY EVIL TWIN!!" she screams. There is a pause before we burst out into laughter. That's how me and Moli are, hell that's how ALL my friends are. We always scream and talk about completely random stuff. We tend to keep our conversations light, since being serious was classified as boring to us. So after we drop our stuff at our lockers, Moli and I start down to the office. I pop the question we both are thinking, "No seriously, what did you do?" I ask. Well, so maybe that's not exactly what Moli is thinking…

Because she gives me a look of surprised, "Excuse me? More like, what did _**you**_ do! They probably thought that bag of sugar you got from World cultures was crack!" she snipes, scrunching her face up.

I roll my eyes and smile, "I'm still ticked I spilled a quarter of it on the band room floor…" I trail off, not really making a point. We walk into Giz's office and Stop short. Sitting in the chairs are six of our friends, Kayla, Bob (Kayla's boyfriend), Jasmine, Alex (Jasmine's on and off again boyfriend who doesn't even go to this school), Courtney and Moli's boyfriend Chris, who all look up at us.

"Great, now they got all of us!" jokes Jasmine as she tosses her hands in the air, shaking her pony tailed medium length blonde hair.

I sit by her, smirking slightly, "I know, I tried to run but it was too late!" I state overly dramatic.

Moli sits by Christ and points at Alex, "Why are YOU here?! We're probably in trouble 'cause of you!" she hisses.

Alex, perviously known as the midget for his once short stature, runs a hand through his sandy blonde crew cut. His blue eyes roll up to the ceiling behind him frame glasses, "Hey, have you ever stopped to thinking that maybe NONE of us are in trouble?" he said in a matter of fact voice. Moli opens her mouth to slam him back but Giz walks in, followed shortly by a lady with short brown hair who I've never seen before. Giz takes a sit behind his desk, the lady choosing to stand off to the side. Giz is one of the vice principals, usually the people the school board pay to deal with trouble makers. So I'm pretty damn sure we aren't here to be given an award for outstanding grades. He stare each one of us down, his brown eyes holding a hard look of indifference towards us.

He leans forward, "You all know why you're here…It's because….you all won the trip to Russia!" he exclaims, ending on a high note. My friends and I share a look of confusion.

Kayla voices our feelings perfectly, "Wait, what to the what?!" she questions, her dark eyes staring at Giz in confusion.

Giz smiles, "Well, you all won the sweepstakes to go to Russia, all expense paid for three weeks." He informs us.

The lady, sensing her cue, pops into the conversation, "Yes, you'll all be given all the necessary winter clothing before you leave for Russia, which is this Friday. We've arranged for all your grades to remain at passing for this semester." She chimes sweetly, a small smile on her face.

Bob raises his hand, his green eyes reflecting misunderstanding, "So, none of us are in trouble…?" he asks, just to make sure.

Giz shakes his head, "Nope." He replies. Bob gives an audible sigh of relief.

I blink, "So, who's chaperoning us?" I ask my brown eyes hungry for answers.

"No on, we believe you're responsible enough to go on your own. Besides your guides will provide enough supervision." He reassures us cooly.

"Guides?" we reply together, questioning his meaning. The lady smiles sweetly.

"Yes, they'll meet you once you landed at Russia's major airport, The Zakhaev international airport in Moscow. Their names are Dmitri Cosakve and Alexandria Mesahae. They'll help you settle into the hotel, guide you through Russia and show you all a good time! Enjoy, have fun but most importantly, be safe." She said, finishing her little informational input. We slowly walk out of the room, letting the information sink in before we spoke.

Moli is the most excited, as usual. "Hooray!! We're going to Russia!!" she screams in excitement.

Jasmine smiles, "All expense paid?! Oh hell to the yeah! And better yet, no chaperones!!" she chimes happily.

I shake my head, the only one of my friends who's not exactly thrilled about this, "I'm not convinced…this sounds too good to be true." I mumble, deep in thought as I throw different scenarios around in my head.

Kayla puts an arm around my neck, "You know what I learned a long time ago? Don't question some as amazing as this, it ruins the awesomeness!" she states, ruffling my short brown hair. I duck out from under her arm, fixing my hair.

A smirk slides across my face, "Well, I guess your right…" I admit enthusiastically. But I still wasn't buying this whole thing. Something is going to go wrong, I can just feel it.


	3. Welcome to Russia

The week races by as Friday jumps us unexpectedly. As I made my way to my car at the end of the school day, fellow peers call out 'Good luck' and 'Make it back!' I smile as I give them a small wave. The bad feeling is still ever present inside my stomach but excitement overcomes it instantly. When I arrive at home, I bring down my two suit cases full of clothes for the trip and place them by the front door. I also bring out another suit case where just my winter clothing is stored. I'm teaming with excitement as I double check I have everything. I've decided the bad feeling is just stress, since I haven't had a proper vacation in so long. So I dismiss it and promise myself I'll have a good time. Soon enough, my parents have driven me to the airport. Before I dash off to join my group of friends, I give them both a short hug.

My mom waves me off, "Oh please be careful!" she said, worry present in her oval face.

I place a hand on her shoulder, "Mom, everything will be OK. I promise I'll stay out of trouble." I reassure her before I lug my stuff over to my group of friends.

She sighs, "That's what I'm afraid of…" she mutters.

The lady from before is with my friends, handing each of us our tickets. She hands me my ticket, "Alright, have fun and please enjoy your selves!" she chimes overly happy before she sashays away. My friends and I all exchange looks of enthusiasm as Jasmine pulls me along, leading the group.

"Come on, let's a go!" she calls out as we bring out stuff to the ticket counter. After getting through all that, we go towards the security check point.

Kayla stops us, looking at each one of us darkly, "Dude, I swear if any of you beep, I'll-" she starts. Bob snickers with Alex and Chris, planning something.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" the three boys said in unison, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.

Kayla can't help but smile, her brown eyes softening, "Oh you guys." She laughs, crossing her arms. In the end, we all make it through the scanners without any mishaps and board the plane. I sit by the window, Moli and Jasmine sit next to me. The three guys sit across the way and Courtney and Kayla sit behind us. We're chatting away, anticipation buzzing in the compact air of the first class compartment where we sit. The long trip begins, on the way the movie _Behind Enemy Lines_ plays repeatedly. _Why do I sense a taste of irony in this?_ I dismiss and decide to catch some sleep.

After making our connection plane in Germany, we finally arrive at Moscow's Zakhaev international airport. Once we've exited the plan and have collected our luggage, we start looking for our guides. A line of people holding signs, obviously looking for travelers, catches our eyes. Out of all the signs, only one is in English and I'm pretty sure it's for us since it states: 'Wisconsinites.' We walk up to the people hesitantly. One is a man, mid 30s and the other is a girl about the same age.

"Why hello there. I believe your looking for us." Jasmine chimes, smiling at the two Russians.

They look at us, as smiles appear on their faces. The man has a lad head and sharp green eyes that he directs at us when he speaks. "Well, Welcome to Russia my friends! I'm Dmitri Cosakve and this is Alexandria Mesahae. We're your guides to Russia." He states, motioning to the girl next to him. Her wavy dark red hair is pulled into a low ponytail, her brown eyes share a soft gaze as a smile sits on her pixie face.

I grin, "Well I'm Erin. That's Jasmine, the straight blond haired glasses wearing freak is Moli, the midget is Alex, Chris is the brunette dude, Courtney is the one with the multi-colored hair with emo sweep bangs, and Kayla is the one with the brown bobbed hair and Bob…well he's that kid." I inform them, gesturing to each person. With our introductions over with, we depart form the airport and go into the city of Moscow. Little did we know the events that would enfold at that airport later on, would change our course of leisure to something more….devious.

A/N: Well, I absolutely hate writing chapters like this. Why? Because frankly they're really tedious and are usually over looked. But, they help bridge us over into the action. So I guess its best to not burn that bridge and just write it.

Rate and review


	4. An Eye for an Eye

We reach the ground level of the airport and step on to the walking conveyer belt they have that humorously reminds me of _The Jensen's. _Jasmine is shaking with excitement, her smile from ear to ear. "Oh my God! I can't believe we're in Russia! Dude, I sooo am putting 'say sup to a Russian' on my list of things to do!" Jasmine said, looking in around in excitement. The conveyor belt stops suddenly and we look at each other.

Moli blinks, tilting her head, "Now what?" she asks stupidly, though the answer is pretty black and white.

I shrug, "I don't know, maybe walk." I reply sarcastic.

Moli furrows her brow and shoots me a look, "Thank you Captain Obvious!" she grumbles.

I grin widely as we continue down to the end, "Your welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm!" I chime back. The two of us laugh at each other, while people around us giving us weird looks.

We finally get to the end of the conveyor belt thing and step off. Jasmine stops us, "Whoa, wait!! I'm going to go do it!" she snickers, dropping her bag and running over to a group of five men.

"Jasmine-what are you doing?!" Courtney calls after, her eyes as big as saucers as she worries about Jasmine, who doesn't always listen to reason.

We follow her, dragging her stuff along. She stops the group of men, a wide grin on her face. "Sup!" she said, stifling a laugh. The men give each other a weird look, the main guy, with spiky black hair and icy blue eyes looks anything but amused with this random conversation remark.

"Sup?" one of them questions just as I walk over, grabbing Jasmine's arm.

I smile sheepishly at the group, "Ahahah, sorry 'bout that folks. She's a little, over-excited about being in Russia. Well, uh, enjoy the rest of you day!" I chime, dragging Jasmine away from the harden looking men. I scowl at her as we come back to the group, "Dude, why the hell did you do that for?!" I growl.

Jasmine smiles, shrugging, "I wanted to say 'sup to a Russian….and I did! I feel so accomplished!" she responds lightly.

Dmitri blinks, "I don't think they were Russian…" he mutters, watching as the group of guys disappear around a corner.

Jasmine raises an eyebrow, "What?! How can you tell?" she asks.

"They spoke English to each other after you two left…" he answers, a smirk on his face.

Jasmine's mouth falls a gape, "You GOT to be kidding me!! Great, now it doesn't count!" she scuffs, folding her arms.

After this, 'interesting' incident, we hail a cab and drive to our hotel. From the outside, you'd think it's a pretty nice place. But the inside is a completely different story. It's dark, depressing and dingy. "I can see where the catch is…it's this crappy place." Mutters Kayla under her breath. Bob nods, agreeing with her. I have to admit, it **is** pretty crappy. Our rooms were no exception. Sure there were three queen beds but the sheets look hastily made and the carpet, to our horror, isn't suppose to be brown. Kayla, Jasmine, Moli, Courtney and I share a room while the boys, Bob, Alex and Chris, get the room next to us. I open the blinds, causing dust to cascade outward. Through a coughing fit, we saw something actually worth checking into this crappy place: The St. Basil towers of Russia, their most famous monument. Through the incoming dark, we could see the towers piercing the sky. Cars whiz below, their head lights casting shadows into the room. I heave a sigh of relief, _alright; Russia isn't such a scary place. What am I worrying about? _

Courtney yawns, stretching out, "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat." She said, changing into her PJ's and crawling into bed. We all agree that that's a good idea and follow her lead, the lights of Russia's night life not affecting us in the lease.

The next day, I wake to find everyone else still asleep. Silently, I slip out of bed and take a shower. After, I slip into a lacy black tank top, blue hoodie and jeans. I brush my short brown hair, curling the ends under like how I usually style it. By now, the rest of the girls are up, shuffling around. I exit the bathroom, smiling at my friends.

"Hey, what do you think we're doing today?" yawn Kayla as she changes clothes.

I shrug, flopping down on the unkept bed and looking over at her, "Tour the Capitol, I suppose." I remark, stretching my back. But to our dismay, our two Russian guides reveal that we're going to stay inside till dinner at 5, as to not bring attention to ourselves. Russia has advanced past the cold war times but recent events have put America and Russia at odds with each other. Still, going out after dark seems even worst. But it's no use fighting it, since it's not in our best interest to try and tour Russia on our own. We sit cooped up in our room, the guy's having joined us. After entertaining ourselves with a hearty game of B.S., the time of our departure looms close at hand. We all slip into our heavy winter clothing, me finishing before the rest of my friends as always since I tend to be a step ahead of the game. I sit on the edge of the bed, flipping on the tiny TV. The news is on and it's obviously pre-recorded since the video shows the sun shining brightly. The reporter stands in front of the camera, an airport sits behind him and the tarmac area has black smoke billowing from fires long put out. The man speaks Russian, but English subtitles scroll along the bottom, describing the situation at hand.

"Five gunmen, all who spoke English, were able to kill hundreds of Russian Civilians at the Zakhaev internation airport here in Moscow…" foretells the subtitles.

Jasmine blinks, "Jesus Christ..!" she gasps, struck with the same amount of fear as the rest of us as we remember being there only a day before.

"One dead gunman, when looked into, was found to be American. No doubt, this attack was done by America. Newly elected Russian President Boris Vorshevsky has this to say." Ends the news caster, the video switching to that of a man, most likely this Vorshevsky guy. From the look on his face, I can tell whatever he's going to say will not be good.

"America. You killed our beloved hero Zakhaev; we killed 30,000 of your soldiers. An eye for an eye. But now you have insulted us by taking the lives of countless brothers and sisters, NO MORE! You want a war? Then, god damn it, you got one! For every Russian civilian killed, we shall kill a thousand of your own. I call on all of Russia to aid in this effort. Kill every American you can find. Those responsible will pay dearly for this tragedy…" he dictates before I flip off the TV, fear gripping me tightly.

Courtney whimpers as tears are about to spill out of her auburn eyes. Kayla hugs her tightly, being strong even though she wants to break down with her. Hell, we all wanted too! Here we are, Americans, stuck in Russia where everyone wants to kill us. I notice the door had opened some time during the news break, Dmitri and Alexandria stand there, ridged with looks of pure hatred on their faces.

I stand up, looking at them, "Dmitri, Alexandria! W-we didn't see you guys there!" I stutter nervously, fearing what they'll do with this order given by their President. They produce shot guns, pointing them threatening at us. This causes all of us to raise our hands in surrender, praying they don't shoot us.

Alex laughs nervously, "Oh really funny guys. You can put the guns down, you got us!" he said, taking a step toward them. They cock the guns loudly, causing Alex to step back.

"Shut up! We're not going to let you guys go that easily! You damn Americans, thinking your all that. It makes me sick!" spits Alexandria fiercely.

Dmitri nods in agreement, "Now we're going to kill you all." He growls darkly.

"Why?!" questions Kayla, angry at their sudden turn.

Dmitri frowns, directing his attention to her, "Because a group of your people came along and killed our innocent brothers and sisters! Now you must pay." He retorts, aiming accordingly.

Bob steps out in front of Kayla, protecting her, "Well-excuse me, why? _We_ didn't kill those people! Some rogue American group did! That doesn't represent all of America!" he snipes, glaring at Dmitri with his fierce blue eyes.

Dmitri and his dark red haired hit woman blink, breaking their hardened faces before resetting them, "That may be true, but President Vorshevsky ordered all of Russia to kill all American's found in the mother country. So even if we let you leave, you would most likely be killed by someone else." Informs Alexandria.

I smile slyly, "Even so, if it's the smallest chance, it's still at least a one percent chance of living. We must take it." I answer smartly.

"So I see you believe in Cheney's old 'one percent doctrine', am I right?" Dmitri said, smiling as he lowered his gun, Alexandria following suit.

I nod, "It worked, didn't it?" I reply, lowering my arms down to my sides. My friends exchange a look, wondering what's going on between me and the two Russians. I take a step, 'causing the Russians to aim at me suddenly. A sly smile crosses my lips, "Oh come now, I thought we were on speaking terms." I say.

"_Were_ Being the key word in that sentence." Alexandria hisses, her brown eyes piercing mine.

I sigh, putting my hands back up, "Funny, I could have sworn that conversation was going places. Oh well, I guess you Russians will never change." I answer shortly.

Alexandria glares at me, ready to smack me one with the butt of her shot gun but Dmitri stops her by holding up a hand, "We never wanted it to be this way…so we'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But don't think everyone else will. Good luck my friend." He pronounces, shaking my hand firmly.

I nod and turn to my friends, "Alright, we got our selves a head start. I highly suggest we take it." I point out, catching them up to speed. Without any further delay, I maneuver myself over to the window and lead my group of friends down the fire escape and into the cold, unforgiving Russian night.


	5. No Plan B

Once my feet hit the ground of the alleyway next to the hotel, I hug the wall and scout for any Russians. When Chris, being the last person to leave the room, has joined up, I turn the corner into the other alley and stop. I look at each one of my friends, different emotions coming out from each but the same emotion still played behind their faces: Fear. I sigh, running a hand through my short brunette hair. "OK, anyone got any idea what we do now?" I ask out front.

Shock grips all of their faces, Alex voicing what's on everyone's mind, "Shouldn't you know?!" he gasps.

I furrow my brow, "Look the only reason I was able to get us outta that bad situation was because I was under a lot of pressure. I just work best like that." I reply shortly, crossing my arms. There's a sudden silence between all of us. Bob glares at me angrily. I shake off his gaze. I hate Bob and he hates me so it's an equilibrium hating relationship. The reason behind this hate is because he tends to steal Kayla away and Bob hates me and the rest of Kayla's friends because we steal her away from him. But the current predicament we're in, I'm willing to put that hate aside to work with him.

Kayla grips Bob's arm tightly, bringing his attention to her and they have a conversation with their eyes. Bob looks back at me, his gaze softening, "Then you should know the pressure still remains the same as it was back in the room. Every Russian wants to kill every American they can find and staying in one spot will increase our already high chances of being caught. Now, THINK." He growls, still not happy about being stuck in Russia with 7 of the people he hates the most.

I gulp, nodding, "Right, OK. Does anyone have a map?" I ask, expecting no one to have the item I seek. Christ surprises me, producing a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and handing it gingerly to me. I look at him as if he just gave birth to an alien turtle baby. Unfolding it, I'm happy to see it's a pretty simple map but it has the street names and landmarks marked accordingly. It's then I devise a plan of action. The initial plan is to get our asses to the American embassy. Plan B? Well, I haven't gotten that far. "Alright ladies and gents. Plan of attack is this: We're currently in the alleyway behind the hotel. What we need to do is to get our asses to the American embassy, which is right next to St. Basil's cathedral. That's the only safe haven for Americans left. So now here's how we're getting-" I start.

Moli jumps into the conversation, "Wait, why are we going to risk going out there when we can us our cell phones?" she asks, her oh so familiar blondeness shining through in her question.

I sigh shakily, keeping my cool, "Moli…who the hell are we going to call? I highly doubt our police men and women back in Wisconsin will be able to help us here. And the army's already got their hands full with the impending attack-or on going attack on American soil, to aid us." I state sharply. Moli pouts, not happy her plan was shot down so quickly.

"Well then, you were saying?" she inquires.

I nod, pulling the map out so they all can see. I point to the hotel's alleyway where we are clustered, "That's where we are now, in the alleyway behind the hotel. Where we're going is the embassy. Now here's how we're going about doing this…" I said, going into my improv plan.


	6. Accent: British

I lead the group, after having explained to them the route we are taking. Christ brings up the rear, watching all our backs. I stop a few feet away from the sidewalk and street. The shadows cover us as a group of angry Russians run pass on the sidewalk. Once their footsteps have died down, I look out to see if the coast is clear. When it is, I motion for my friends to follow and I lead them across the street to the next alleyway. From there, my team follows the alleyway pout into the large stone court yard. The towers of the cathedral loom menacingly to the left while the embassy stood to the right with opens arms, ready to embrace us. All's we have to do is get across the big gap where we're open for attack from all sides. I stop the group and look back at them. "Hey, this next phase is going to be very difficult and precision will be key. Once we enter the court yard, we will be open for attacks. There aren't any other alleyways to snake our way up into the embassy. Now, what I'm proposing is this: running like idiots will only bring attention to us. So, we're going to walk there." I explain, my level-headiness coming through in my explanation.

Bob crosses his arms and stares me down, "And what do you suppose we do if a Russian stops us?" he growls darkly, his hate for me coming through in every word he spits.

I smirk, "Elementary, my dear Watson! We put on an accent. But it's got to be consistent, not changing it in mid sentence and we can't all have different accents." I state harshly.

Courtney pipes up, "It should be an easy on too! No Italian, or Brazilin or any other hard accent." She said, seeking a compromise. We all nod, agreeing with her.

Kayla snaps her fingers, "I got it! We go British. It's the easiest accent in the world to pull off!" she replies, crossing her arms, pleased with her self.

I nod, "Perfect! OK, we know what accent we're going with, now let's get going. And don't forget the accent, it'll keep you alive." I warn them darkly. With that last warning, we enter the court yard and start towards the embassy. We're all on edge, Courtney the most nervous of all of us. But I keep a hard face on, my eyes hot moving from the finish line of the embassy. It's not till the Russian is close, do I acknowledge his presence.

"You there! Stop, you Americans!" he demands, his voice thundering throughout the court yard. My friends jump, scared out of their skins. I look from them to the Russian and exhale a breath, expelling my nervousness.

"G'day Gov'nor! Mighty fine weather we be 'aving!" I comment, my accent spot on, if I do say so myself. But it isn't my opinion that matters now; it is the man who is capable of killing us for being associated with America.

He looks from me to the rest of the group, "Oh, you're British. Sorry, I thought you were American…" he apologizes.

I wave him off, "Oh, yeah, we get that a lot. But, speaking of Americans. W-we thought we saw a group run, that way!" I reply, pointing to a completely random direction. Without hesitation, the Russian disappears that way. With him gone, we continue towards the embassy. I cam smell the safety and we quicken our pace. The lights shine warmly, beckoning us into the safe haven. But with out warning, an explosion rips through the building, snuffing the light and destroying the home free base. We stop and stare, ridged with terror. I step back, the feeling of crushing defeat hitting me. This was it, our one plan. There is no back up plan, no B. I look over at my friends, watching as the hope died in their eyes. A feeling of sickness hits me as I feel I let them all down. _Oh can this get any worst? Tch, worst would be impossible…_ Just then, a van squeals to a stop near us. We look up as two muscular male Russians exit, the driver approaching us.

"Get in the van!" he snaps, obviously not in the mood to play games. _Oooo yeah, looks like worst went from impossible to indefinite…just our luck..._

Moli grabs her face in fear, "No, not the van!" she shrieks, dropping the British accent. We all look at her; a look of disbelief sits on our faces. She realizes her fault, slapping a hand over her mouth.

The driver smirks, "Yeah….these are them." He calls to his partner who joins him. They both point shot guns at us, "Get in the van, NOW. Move, we ain't got all day!" gripes the driver as his partner starts wrangling us up. We're forced into the back of the van. The seats that once occupied the back are absent, with the only option for seating being the floor. The door is slammed shut, leaving us in darkness. Our two kidnappers return to their seats in the front and the car lurches forward, leading us to somewhere that definitely isn't ideal.


	7. The pawn starts

The ride is violent and I'm pretty sure the driver's doing it on purpose, turning hard on corners and hitting every damn pot hole he can. This causes us in the back, the ones who AREN'T restrained, to go rolling around in the back like marbles. I'm pretty sure I knocked heads with everyone, my head throbbing by the time the car makes on final violent sop forward. We end up in one giant heap, poor Courtney lies under all of us, moaning in pain. Our two 'favorite' Russians exit the van. As we pick ourselves up, the sliding door is ripped open, pouring in light. We wince at the sudden attack of light from the street lights. Just as we're reacting to the sudden light, a Russian grabs me by the upper arm and yanks me out of the car fiercely. I nearly loose my balance from the abrupt action but catch myself. The male Russian drags me along as my friends get shoved out of the van. We're led into a building, the lights are mostly out as we're led down a hall. Eventually we come to a door, the Russian pausing before knocking sharply on the door. A man answers back in Russian, his tone not sounding pleased with the interruption. The Russian answers back defensively and the man simply answers back. The Russian opens the door, shoving me in first as my friends follow in suit. Moli hugs Christ tightly, her face buried in his sweat shirt while Kayla grips Courtney in a tight hug. Bob rolls his eyes, not pleased his girl friend would rather hug her friend than him. I canvas the room quickly; it's a small office room with the only accent being that of an oak desk near the back where a chair sits with its back to us. But it's not for long since the person in the chair turns around in it. He's a pale, skinny man who's about mid-forties with pale blue eyes and spiky black hair. I swear I've seen him some place but I can't place my finger on it.

He smiles, his eyes staring into mine as I stare back, "Welcome. You're all probably wondering why you're here." He said slowly, finally breaking his concentration with me to look at the rest of the group.

Jasmine raises a nervous hand and he looks at her darkly, "Excuse me, but my momma always told me never to talk to strangers." She squeaks out in a tiny voice.

The man smirks, "Well that's very smart of your mom…Jasmine." He said, sitting back. Jasmine is taken aback by this, we all are. Here is this guy, who we've never met, stating Jasmine's name.

I scowl, stepping forward. Normally, Kayla would be the one with the witty come back but she's kinda frozen in fear with the rest of the group at the moment. "Who the hell are you?!" I demand, my eyes burning into his.

He looks at me interestedly, "Why my dear Erin…I'm Vladimir Makarov. Now how I know all your names is quite simple: you don't honestly think you won that trip to Russia with all your friends from pure luck, did you?" he laughs.

I blink, feeling my breathing become shallow. The name…he is the worst terrorist in Russian history since Zakhaev and Resputin. _Hell, now that I think about it, he's the guy Jasmine said 'sup to at the airport…_Now here he sits, the man who doesn't flinch at some of the worst horrors of the world, a plan sitting in his crooked mind that some how involved my group of friends and me. _Ah, damn. I knew this whole trip was too good to be true!_

Bob folds his arms, frowning, "So I guess there's no need for any introductions on our part, then." He remarks darkly.

Makarov folds his hands together, "True. Now, why you're all here. It's because I want to test a theory. To see if all Americans are the same. To see if pitted against one another, you'll do what's necessary to win." He informs, obviously having witnessed something like this first handed.

Kayla blinks, raising an eyebrow, "What do you mean by, if all Americans are the same?" she questions, Courtney hiding behind her.

A smirk falls on Makarov's face, "You may not realize this, but some of the highest ranking officials, military too, are some of the most deceitful, back stabbing group of people on the face of the Earth." He replies.

I laugh slightly, "That's politic. They're been dirty since 1974. Haven't you seen _The Godfather 2_?" I retort lightly, feeling I'm one upping him.

He laughs, "Oh yes but that's not what I'm getting at. A very high ranking military General is responsible for back stabbing all of America for his own reconciliation for having let 30,000 soldiers die. He hired me to start this ball of chaos rolling, by attack the Zakhaev airport and leaving the body of that American spy behind. From there, all of Russia calls for war. The war that General needs to prove his worthiness." He states casually as if he is simply forecasting the weather.

My mouth falls agape, "What kind of idiot does that?" I growl, folding my arms..

He shrugs, "Hey, he's your General. Not mine. Besides, our partnership was severed after the attack. Seems he doesn't want me talking. So back stabbed have I. Now I want to know if all Americans are the same. If they back stab people they trust to get back to the top." He said, mocking my action of folding my arms.

Jasmine finally jumps back into the conversation, "But you couldn't have planned this so far in advanced. I mean, come on! You probably only learned of that guy back stabbing you a few hours ago!" she snipes, her blue eyes staring intently at him.

He smirks, "Truth be told, the original plan was to just see how long you all would survive." He admits, running a hand through his hair.

Moli grips Chris's arm, her blue eyes staring at Makarov in fear, "And what if we survived?" she ask, not exactly keen on hearing the answer.

"Oh, we'd kill you." Replies on of the men, a sick smile on his face.

Moli goes white, hiding her face in Chris's jacket. Makarov shakes his head, "Viktor, no need to scare them." Sighs Makarov, sharing a look of indifference at his comrade. Chris and Viktor glare at each other, each determined not to falter. But Chris ends up breaking the glare.

"Now that the tides have switched, what are you going to do with us?" Chris growls questionably.

Makarov smirks, closing his eyes, "I believe I already told you that. But if you want the details, I'll tell you. You all will be scattered throughout an abandoned village in the middle of no where. From there, you are to find your friends and kill them." He states broadly.

Courtney gasp, "W-what? No! We'd never do that." She squeaks, holding Kayla tight.

I narrow my eyes at Makarov, "Yeah, no dice Makarov! We'll never do that." I snap.

He opens his eyes, his gaze falling onto me, causing a shiver to run up my spine. "I'm sorry dear but you don't have a say in this. You can't sit this one out." He states, irritation mounting in his voice.

I fold my arms, fear disappearing from my face, "Oh yeah? And what misplaced sense of logic drove you to think we'd actually hurt our friends?" I hiss darkly.

"Simple. You choose not to play and one of my snipers will be more than happy to take you out. So you don't have a choice. Oh and watch out for the loyalist rebels who inhabit the village. They _**really**_ don't like Americans." He comments, a sly smile on his face. And so, the first pawn is moved.

I glower at him, "I promise I will do everything in my power to bring you down-" I start but a cloth is suddenly clamped over my open mouth. I breathe in the putrid taste, most likely clarifoam. Before I know it, my vision blurs and I feel my body become limp as I slump into the arms of my clarifoam wielding attacker.

The last thing I hear before I black out completely is Makarov comment, "This one…I can see having potential. But we'll see, we'll see soon enough."


	8. Death changes a person

My eyes flutter open slowly and I bolt up from my lying position. My eyes dart around the room, it's a grey and dingy place with evidence of war torn violence from the multiple gun shot holes in the wall and parts of the roof that look like they've caved in from bombs being dropped on it. A door way sits a couple feet away, the sun hiding behind a wall of grey clouds. There's a prominent temperature change, warmth hitting me. I take the heavy winter coat off and fix my black lacy cami that sits under my blue hoodie. It's then I notice the familiar shape of an AK-47 lying near me. I take it, examining it in my hands. A pistol sits in the pocket of my discarded coat. I grab that and place it behind my belt on my pants. _Wait, what am I doing?! _I stop and sit crouched. _Am I really going to give into this terrorist's demands? Hell to the no! But what am I to do? _I sit there, thinking. Then suddenly a thought hits me. Makarov mentioned loyalist rebels….and his men are ultranationalists. _From what I remember from Ms. Hinz's class, is that those two groups are rivals. So, if they know the other is here, they'll start an old fashion Wild West shoot-out. Where as that can be used as a distraction to haul ass out of here! Damn, I really DO think fast under pressure. _I rummage through the jacket, pulling out all the mags and clips I can find and placing them in all the available pockets. Inevitably, some have to be place in my bra. I let out a deep breath, _this is it._ I start to the door and look around. A Baruch of bullets peppers the doorway, causing me to fall back into the building and scoot over to the wall. I hear my heart race as I slowly peak out from the doorway. Bob stands from his hiding place behind a corner. I let out a sigh of relief, "Oh Bob, it's just you! God, you scared me. You could have shot me!" I laugh, starting to stand up, intending to tell him the whole plan.

But he raises his gun at me, a sick smile on his face, "Sorry, I missed." He replies darkly, letting out a shower of bullets. Once again, I quickly dive back into the building just in time. I press my self up against the wall and wince as each bullet hits the wall I'm hiding behind.

When he stops, I gripe, "JESUS CHRIST! Why the HELL are you shooting at me?!?!?" I shriek, hugging my AK close to me, too afraid to us it.

"Because that's the point, isn't it? To kill all our friends. Trust me; I hate all of you so it shouldn't be that hard to do. Kayla maybe a little hard to kill but hey, you gotta do what cha gotta do to survive, right?" he answers, once again letting off a burst of shots at the building.

I grit my teeth, "Bob, it doesn't have to be this way! I have a plan to get all of us out of here! We don't need to kill each other." I plead, shaking slightly. But it's not from fear but the adrenaline that is coursing through my veins.

"Sorry, but I'm done listening to you. I'm making my own plan and that involves killing you!" he sneers, "You selfish bitch! You always stole Kayla away from me, now I'm just returning the favor. Why? Because, I hate you." He laughs, letting off more shots. But it ends with a click.

He stops laughing and that's when I laugh back at him, "You know what Bob? I never liked you either and now…" I answer back with rising confidence, "It looks like you're all out of luck!" With that, I quickly turn out into the street and mow him down. He collapses, falling onto his back as blood trickles from his a gaping mouth. I breathe heavily then turn away, my hand clasped over my mouth. _I-I just killed someone…it cold blood! Oh God, oh God! No, no, it was self-defense! But there's still a dead guy lying on the ground! _I guess I did give in to that mad man's threats….I slipped up. But if one thing is clear, it's this: no way in hell would I do anything t hurt my friends. _Course, killing Bob will emotional hit Kayla, making her never forgive me. But who said I had to tell her right away? If she asks, I-I'll say a sniper got him. Yeah, a sniper! Later on, I'll actually come clean and tell her the truth._ I stop this thought train and slowly look at the dead body of Bob. I gulp, "So I guess this is good bye Bob. Have fun in hell." I growl darkly, turning swiftly and continuing on my mission to find the rest of my group. My mind keeps replaying the shoot out over and over, driving me to the brink of insanity. I take a detour through a house and come abound a street. Sitting on an old wooden chair, I watch through the blown out window to see if any of my friends chanced walking out the doors of their new locations. I take my eyes off the window, looking down at the gun in my hands. Taking a mag from my pocket, I clip it into the gun. I look up and my heart stops. Moli is walking through the street, her long dirty blonde hair blowing softly around her. But it's what glinting on the roof that alarms me: a sniper. I jump up, knocking the chair back. Just in the nick of time, I bolt through the door and tackle Moli through another door opposite my original camper spot, just as a bullet hits the spot she was standing. We scurry up into sitting positions, breathing heavily from the near death experience. I look over at Moli, a smile coming to my face, "Hey. Great to see you alive and well, my friend." I breathe, warming extremely.

She takes a while to calm down but eventually her famous grin appears on her face, "Back at cha buddy!" she chimes. We stand up, brushing our selves off. I'm glad she didn't leave her gun at her dump sigh, meaning she can help fight. Though, she'd never do that. "So, what's the plan Captain?" inquires Moli, beaming at me.

I look around, wondering who she's talking to. Then I realize it's me, "Oh, well, uh. Basically this: we get the loyalist to realize there are ultranationalists in their village. From there, they'll fight and we all can slip past and get our asses to safety. Savvy?" I explain shortly, "Now, the only problem is how we're getting the rest of our tem together to get out of here together." We both pause and think. A light bulb suddenly goes off in my brain, remembering Moli's suggestion back at the first leg of this choose-your-own-adventure trip in Moscow. I look at her, smiling, "Moli, I'm sorry for saying your idea was stupid back in Moscow. It actually is pretty smart, in this case at least." I admit.

She blinks, and then realizes what I'm talking about and how it'll work. "Oh, I see. So we'll text them and lead them here! But, how exactly are we going about this?" she questions as she pulls out her square flip phone.

I smirk, as I take my slider phone out, "Elementary my dear Watson! We use my maps on my phone to direst them towards us. OK, Lieutenant Moli! Your duty is to get them here. I'm going to set up our 'escape.'" I reply, a wide smile engulfing my face as I hand Moli my phone. From there, I walk up the stairs till I find myself on the blown out roof. I crouch behind a still standing bit of a wall and peek over. A glint a couple roofs over catches my attention. Without fore-warning, a bullet ricochets against the wall I'm hiding behind. I drop down to my back, breathing heavily. _How the hell did he know I was here?! It's almost like I have some sort of sensor-_ I pause and look down my shirt and sure enough, a wireless heart monitor sensor is stuck above my heart. I grit my teeth, "Dammit, it's NEVER easy, is it?!" I growl under my breath. I take a piece of rock and chuck it at the sniper. It hits the roof short but it catches his attention. He stands up, looking around to see the culprit. Quickly, I look around the side of the wall and shoot at him with my AK-47. He staggers, clutching his chest before falling off the roof dead. I go back to hiding behind the wall, hugging my gun to myself. _Well, I'm going to hell. I might as well take some people with. _A box a couple feet away catches my attention. Curious, I investigate the contents and discover grenades. Smiling sinisterly I take one and go to pull the pin. I stop, "Wait, I always wanted to do this." I comment, trying to pull the pin out with my teeth. But it refuses to budge. In the end, I get frustrated and decide being bad-ass wasn't working in this situation so I pull the pin with my finger and toss it in the general location of the dead Russian. An explosion soon follows and I can't help but smile. _That's sure to get their attention. _Deciding there's nothing else I can do up here, I rejoin Moli downstairs. "Lieutenant! Status on the location of our men!" I bark with a smile on my face.

She looks at me, laughing, "They're on their way as we speak. Only a few minutes till they appear at the rally point, captain." She replies smartly as she hands me back my phone.

A sly smile comes to my face, "Good," I mutter, "Now for phase two to commence."

I raise my gun at Moli and she jumps back, raising her hands in a meek surrender. "What the hell are you doing?! Have you gone insane!" she yelps.

I sigh irritated, "No Moli, I', not insane because I'm not going to kill yo. See there are wireless heart sensors on us. That's how the sniper knew where you were and I was! So we gotta make it look like we were killed. So that we can sneak past without being detected." I inform her, "Now, rip the sensor off as soon as I let a couple round off, OK?" She nods, finding her sensor on her. I hold the AK towards the wall and let off some rounds. When I do, she rips the sensor off and lets it fall to the ground. I smile, fist bumping her, "Beautiful." I remark cheerfully.

"Hey, what about yours?" she questions, placing her hands on her hips.

I smirk, "All in due time my friend, all in due time." I reply, keeping her in the dark about the end result of this plan.


	9. This Pain I made

After a couple minutes, our friends join us. I throw my arms out, "Welcome my fellow comrades. Now, we don't have much time. So I'm just going to give you all the basic low down of the situation. So the loyalists hate the ultranationalists. I came up and carried out the first part of the three part plan, which was to off an ultranationalist. They'll realize the other force is here, start fighting and from there we can run past and get far away from here. That's the third part. Second part is this: you all have wireless heart senors connected to you. We can't have those on because they'll be able to find us no matter how far away we run. So, I'm going to let some shots off. I want the lot of ya to yank those sensors off as soon as I do that, savvy? I finish, as I take a fresh mag from my bra.

"Uh, did you just take that from your…bra?" questions Alex, the rest of my friends blinking in confusion at me.

I scowl, "Don't judge me! I didn't have any more pocket space." I grumble.

Kayla looks at my shirt then at me, a wide grin on her face, "So how many more do you have in there?" she asks, stifling a laugh.

I narrow my eyes, "Oh shut up….and two. I have two more in there." I reply hotly, crossing my arms and looking away. After finishing this random conversation piece, I let off a controlled burst at the wall. My friends tear the sensors off right as I do. "Alright, the deed is done." I start.

Moli frowns, folding her arms, "What about yours?" she points out blankly.

I blink then slap my forehead, "Oh yeah! I almost forgot! Well, I gotta make it believable." I explain to her, slinging my AK over my shoulder. I take the pistol from behind my belt and cock it. Aiming it upwards, I get ready to take the sensor off at the right time. I click the trigger and nothing happens, pausing I look at the pistol in confusion. I check the chamber and discover only one bullet. I laugh to my self, _Nice Makarov...like we'd actually play Russian roulette. _I spin the chamber, _well then, let's play!_ I aim it at the ceiling once again and click the trigger, the bullet going off. A smirk falls onto my lips, _hmm I don't know if that's my lost or yours. _I smile to myself just as I hear a gun fight begin outside, "Well, looks like phase three has just began. So let's go. Lt. Moli, you're following behind me." I inform her, going to the door.

"Aw, how come we can't have cool military names?" whines Jasmine.

I stop and look at her, not believing she's choosing now of all times to get into this discussion. "Ooh we can talk about this later! Right now we gotta move!" I snap, leading them out into the street. We hug the wall as we sneak past the fire fight. I stop them before we cross a street, a sniper looking in our direction. "Cool it you guys, we got a sniper on our six-" I start. Moli, not hearing or seeing I've stopped, clumsily stumbles into the middle of the road. Fear grips me as slow motion kicks in, "MOLI!" I cry. A blur suddenly rushes past me, tackling Moli to the ground. But the sniper fires, a bullet hitting the blur. My two friends hit the ground hard. I run out, shooting at the sniper but my gun jams on me outta of the blue. I swear under my breath, standing in front of my two friends, Chris being revealed as the blur who covered Moli. "JASMINE! Shoot that SOB!" I scream, watching in horror as the sniper reloads. No shot is taken from Jasmine and I look over at the rest of the group quickly. "Kayla-Courtney-OH WILL COME ON JUST BLOODY WELL SHOOT HIM?!?!" I yell in desperation. The sniper aims at me and I close my eyes, waiting to feel the bullet rip into me. When the pain fails to hit me but instead sound off, I look and see Alex having shot the sniper. I give an audible sigh of relief, having stared down death for the third time today. _Some vacation this turned out to be…_I turn to Moli and Chris, worry over coming me as I see blood trickling from the wound on Chris's upper arm. Luckily, though, the bullet just grazed him. I snap my fingers at Alex, gesturing to Chris, "Alex, help Chris! We got to move, people!" I bark as Alex yanks Chris up. I extend a hand to Moli, she grasps my wrist and I pull her up. I continue leading them through the abandoned town, finally coming out into the forest. After running in the forest, the town disappears in the distance and we stop by a small stream. We huff, the run having tired us all out. "Alright…Chris, for your heroism you're my second Lt. for stepping up, Alex, you're my first Sergeant. And the rest of you are lowly privates for not helping when your comrades were in danger." I snipe with disappointment that they had frozen up back there. Chris winces, bringing my attention to his would. I lead him down the small hill to the stream and lift the short sleeve of his shirt to see. What is shown is a deep graze, blood gargling from it that makes me sick. I take some water and use it to clean the wound. "Hey, does anyone have a bandana or something?" I ask as I sit on a rock and look over at my friends. Jasmine nods, taking out a black on and handing it to me. I give her a nod, thanking her wordlessly. I tie it around Chris's arm, tying it tightly against the wound. He winces and I finish. "It'll hold for now but we'll have to get it properly fixed later." I state helping him up by grabbing his fore arm. My friends look at me, concern in their faces. I blink, "What?" I said, questioning their looks.

Courtney rubs her arm, "Where do we go from here?" she asks.

I sigh, I hadn't thought of where we were going. All I know is we sure as hell weren't going back to that town. I fix the AK's strap, pushing it back on my shoulder, "We walk. Hopefully we'll find a village where we can 'commandeer' a vehicle and drive till we hit the border of Europe-or China. It doesn't matter as long as we get out off Russia." I cough.

Then I begin walking but Kayla stops and looks around, worry heavy in her auburn eyes. "Guys…? Where's Bob?" she asks, her lip quivering. I stop short; feeling the memories of my run in with Bob hit me like a ton of bricks.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him since Moscow!" admits Courtney, concern in her voice.

Alex shakes his head, "I don't know," he mutters, "But I sure as hell don't want to go back for him."

Kayla crosses her arms, "I'm not going anywhere till Bob comes." She scoffs, standing firm.

I turn and look at her, sadness playing on my face, "Kayla…I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but Bob's dead. I-I think a sniper got to him." I mope, feeling horrible for lying to my friend. But if I told her the truth, that I shot Bob, everything wold become very complicated. Mostly, she wouldn't listen and everyone else would never look at me the same way. Kayla looks at me, mortified. Tears fall from her eyes as she feels the pain of loosing her significant other. Jasmine wraps her in a hug and we all share a moment of silence, saved for Kayla's uncontrollable cries of sadness. I look away, not able to bring myself to look at the pain I created for my friend.


	10. Instincts

After Kayla's sobs have subsides, we continue walking through the village in silence. Eventually, we come upon a withered crop field, giving evidence of human activity. We start across the field, keeping our opens open for any hostile forces-basically any Russian. We hug the wall of a building, catching our breath. I jump out into the street, gun raised. To my surprise the street is deserted and it looks like this old farm village hasn't been occupied for a long time. I look back at my friends and motion with my head for my friends to group up by me. I look around, keeping my voice down just in case there are still people hidden in the buildings. "Alright, let's check around to see if we can get our hands on a working car. Preferably a truck or a large vehicle." I hiss. The group splits up, scouting the whole village for a working car. In the end, we only come up with a dead scooter which even if it did work, wold be no real use to us. I open my mouth, intending to speak, but the sound of a helicopter freezes me.

"Is that what I think it is?" breathes Jasmine, panic present in her aqua blue eyes.

I shake myself out of my daze and snap my head towards my friends. "Quick, get some cover before it sees us!" I cry, skidding into an alleyway and hugging the wall. My friends scurry around, finding hiding spots in a whirlwind. Silence falls upon us as I listen to the helicopter approach. Peaking out, I watch it fly over us and down the street. It lands in front of a barn, the rotor blades slowing to a stop. A crazy idea hits me, one that causes a huge grin to appear on my face. I look over at Chris and Alex, "Guys, you're with me. We're taking that helicopter." I growl quietly. They nod, following me in my stealth approach.

"Hey, what about us?!" cries Courtney, fearing we're leaving her behind. I hold a hand up to her, stopping her from following us.

"You all stay here. Chris, Alex and I will get the helicopter." I answer back in hushed tones. She nods, returning to her hiding spot behind the garbage can that Kayla sits in. My stealth team and I reach the helicopter just as the pilot steps out. He's a muscular Russian with dark hair. He hasn't noticed us, starting to the barn. But I rush up to him, jabbing the barrel of my AK-47 into the back of his head. He stops abruptly, placing his hands up in the air. "Don't move! I swear I'll blow your fucking head off!" I snarl, darkly, "Do you speak English?"

He nods tensely, "Da, I-I do." He stutters, fearing he'll be shot if he says anything out of line.

"OK, we're commandeering your helicopter, sir. I hope you don't mind." I inform him, stand back a little.

He slowly turns around and holds a perplexed look on his short stubbed-filled face when he realizes who we are. A smirk crosses his lips, "Well that depends. If it's just you three, it'll be easy for me to help you by flying you out." He replies simply.

I lower my gun slightly, but keep a stone hard face, "We have four others with us." I answer shortly, not wanting to reveal anymore information than I needed to.

He sighs, shaking his head dismally, "I'm sorry, but if you're intending on taking the heli, you won't fit everyone in. Some will be forced to stay behind and run the risk of being picked off by some pissed Russians." He reveals.

This news hits me hard, realizing that this is yet another dead end. I let out a heavy sigh, slinging my AK over my shoulder as I stare at the ground dejectedly. "Your right…I-I'm sorry for all this. We're really desperate about getting out of here." I mutter, admitting my mistake. I sigh, falling onto my but in a sitting position and hug my knees. "I'm so sorry guys…I failed you." I mumble feeling I've let down my friends. All this time, I had been using my protective instincts to help me along. To help me stay strong for my friends. But atlas, not even all the knowledge gained from watching old military movies can help me here now. My tank is on empty, my strength is faltering and hope is slowly dying like a terminally ill patient.

Chris looks over at me and back at Alex, shock on his face. "Hey, don't say that! You've led us through some thick shit! You stepped up when we all stood frozen. You saved us, Erin! Now, dammit, don't get discouraged! We know you can come up with another plan." Reassures Chris, giving me a thumbs up.

I shake my head, feeling tears swell in my eyes. Not even his words could improve my feelings at this moment. "No, no this was it! This was the last plan! I didn't _have_ a back up plan when I organized us to ambush this guy. This was the plan B! No, not even! I'm pretty sure we're on plan Q! I give up, I'm done! I'm fucking done!" I cry, feeling hot tears roll down my face as I feel my whole world crashing around me.

Alex sighs, "Erin, come on. Don't cry…" he mutters, his eyes still trained on the Russian.

I shake my head, placing my forehead against my knees in defeat as I am too choked up to answer him back. The Russian coughs, "Hey is OK. No need to cry-hey, look. I feel for you, I have friends who are in a special task force that helps civies. Some are even American. Speaking of which, I have to go pick 'em up." He mutters off handily.

I sniff, waving him off, "O-ok, you go save them. I wish you the best." I mutter, feeling I'm at the end of the rope that is slowly becoming a noose around my neck.

A smile comes to the Russian's face, "How would you all like a ride outta this hell hole?" he asks, light-heartily.

I look up at him, shock overcoming the sadness in my face, "A ride outta-you mean it?!?!" I question, not believing my ears. He nods, smiling warmly at us. Alex and Chris grin widely, rising hope coming to us all. The man extends a hand to me, pulling me up from the ground. I beam up at him, shaking his hand feverishly. "Oh thank you! You have NO idea how glad I am to hear you say that!" I gab lively. I stop suddenly, looking at him curiously, "You now, I never caught your name kind sir!"

He grins, "Ah, just call me Nikolai, my friend." He answers back.

I smile kindly, "Erin, call me Erin." I reply. Alex whistles, waving the rest of the group over. They approach hesitantly. I look over at them, glowing with happiness, "Guys, this is Nikolai. He's offered us a ride out of here. Looks like we've finally caught a break!" I cheer brightly. My friends let out cries of joy. Without a moments delay, we pile into the back of his pave low plan, stored in the barn, and set off to aid his friends. We look out the back, watching Russia disappear further and further into the distance till only ocean remains. I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling the danger disappear with Russia in the distance. Oh but danger is like a virus-it can travel across water and refuses to die.


	11. The Truth hurts

I sit back in my seat, looking straight across to where Kayla, Courtney, Alex and Jasmine sit, staring back. Moli sits on my right, with Chris on her right. Silence hangs above us as we feel the danger drain away from us. Tears come to Kayla's eyes, "Damn. I wish Bob was here to see this end." She mutters, choked up with grief. Courtney pats her on the shoulder, her frown pulled into a look of sorrow. Guilt weighs down on me heavily, the truth begging me to tell it.

Finally, I gulp and look at Kayla, an apologetic look on my face. "Kayla, I have to admit. I wasn't quite honest with yo, all of you guys. Bob wasn't killed by a sniper…I killed him." I reveal, fearing that the truth would only hurt worst than the lie.

Kayla gawks at me, unable to come to terms with this. She glares at me darkly, fist clenched tightly, "Y-you…killed him?!?! Why the FUCK did you do that for?!?! Huh?! You, you insane murderer!" she snaps, as hot tears run down her face.

I sigh, looking away in shame, "I didn't go into this intending to kill him, Kayla. That's just how this all played out. **He** shot at me first, I was only protecting myself. You know, self defense." I reply shortly.

Kayla shakes her head at me slowly, a stone-cold expression on her face. "Erin…it's going to take a long time for me to forgive you. Hell, I don't even know if I ever will. J-just don't talk to me for the rest of the flight…" she snarls, looking away. I look over at Courtney who shrinks away from me in fear.

I sigh, rubbing my eyes, "Fine…" I mumble.

Alex frowns, folding his arms across his chest. "So, you're a murderer…interesting." He remarks darkly.

I shoot him a dark look out of the corner of my eyes. He gulps, shutting up. Jasmine remains silent, not knowing what to say or how to feel. "So Erin, how does it feel to be a murderer?" Chris asks, jokily. I loo at the ground dejectedly, feeling like I'm the elephant in the room. Moli slaps Chris in the chest lightly, shooting him a look. _Well at least Moli still sticks by me._

Finally, I can't take this uneasy silence. Wordlessly, I stand up and go towards the cockpit. I pause, looking back at my friends, "To answer you questions: it feels absolutely horrible." I state curtly, answering Chris's question. I enter the cock pit, taking a seat in the Co-pilot seat. Nikolai doesn't protest, continuing to fly. I sigh deeply, "You heard all that, didn't you…"I mutter, knowing full well he did.

He nods, "Da, I did." He replies.

There's a silence between the two of us before I speak. "Do you think I'm an insane murderer?" I ask in a small voice.

He glances over at me before returning his eyes to the skies, "From just hearing you killed someone, yes. But to every story, there are two sides. So, what's yours?" he asks calmly, smiling at me kindly.

I end up telling him the whole shoot-out I had with Bob. Nikolai nods solemnly, "I see, well. He shot at you first, so I'm going to say that you had to defend yourself. So, self defense." He states knowingly.

I nod, looking out the window dismally at the clouds as they go by. "If only my friends would realize that like you…" I mumble. Nikolai frowns, handing me his smoking cigar. Unconsciously, I take it and take a puff. My face scrunches up as soon as the potent taste of tobacco tastes my tongue. I start into a coughing fit, glaring at Nikolai childishly. "Why did you give me a cigar to smoke?!?!" I snipe, appalled.

He smirks, shrugging, "Sorry, it seemed you needed to unwind." He said, chuckling to himself.

"I can't smoke, I'm underaged!" I breathe, fear of the consequences gripping me.

Nikolai blinks, looking at me questionably, "Excuse me, but you killed a guy and you're more worried about getting caught under age smoking?" he laughs. I can't help but laugh along, realizing how messed up my priorities are.

Nights hits us just as we land in Argentina. Casting a glance back at my friends, I see they've all fallen asleep. I look over at Nikolai, "so what are we doing here, Nikolai?" I whisper so as to not wake my sleeping friends.

He unbuckles himself from his seat, "Refueling and sleep." He answers, yawning. I follow him out the side door, Jasmine moving in her sleep as we pass her. I look around, the warm South American air hitting me. From the looks of things, it looks like we've landed at an abandoned tarmac. Nikolai is refueling the plane as I walk over.

"So, your friends….how long can they wait for you to come to their aid?" I ask, folding my arms.

He shrugs, "Well, they didn't call me to rescue them exactly…more sort of a back up in case something happened." He said, blankly.

I blink, "S-so what if they don't need you to help, what happens to us?" I ask, panic escalating within me.

He shrugs, "Guess I'll swing by your guy's state before I head back to Russia." He replies.

"Oh..." I answer, giving a sigh of relief.

He looks over at me, "What, did you honestly think I'd leave you all in Argentina? Phh! I'm not that mean." He laughs. The pump stops pumping gas into the plane, causing Nikolai to remove it from the pave low's gas tank. Without paying for it, we enter the plane. My friends are still fast asleep. Nikolai takes his seat in the pilot's seat, leaning back in it and falling immediately asleep. I curl up into a ball in the Co-pilot seat, listening to the snores of the Russian and the quiet breathing of my friends in the back of the plane. My eyes close slowly, casting me into darkness. Gun shots cause me to open them abruptly and I realize with a start I'm back in Russia, at the abandoned village.

"Erin." Hisses a voice to my right. I look over and my heart stops. Bob raises his gun to me, a sick smile on his face, "G'night, bitch." He snarls. I let out a scream as the bullets exit the gun and come at me-My eyes open abruptly, glancing around feverishly. The familiar sight of the cock pit is what greets me, not the abandoned village. Cold sweat is evident on my face as I wipe it, my breathing heavy as I hear my heart pounding in my ears. I nervously run a hand through my hair. Glancing over at Nikolai, I'm glad to see I hadn't waked him. I hug myself, feeling tears come to my eyes as the image of Bob ready to kill me, is burned into my mind.


	12. Adopted Leprechaun

The night gives way to morning, the sun shining brightly into the cock pit. The glow doesn't wake the sleeping Russian, but rather the vibration of his phone. He snorts loudly, waking from his slumber. He looks around dazed till realizes where the source of the vibration is coming from. He pulls out the phone and clicks it, talking into in a hushed tone as he believes I'm actually asleep. The call ends as he starts the plane, taking off into the light of the day. I look over at him, a blank look on my face, "So, what's going on?" I ask, shifting in my seat.

He looks over at me quickly, "Seems my friends need my help after all. And I'm afraid I won't be able to drop you and your friends off in Wisconsin…" he tells me, his attention on flying.

I blink, "Uh, and why is that?" I inquire sheepishly.

"Well, Russia has just attacked D.C. and the whole country is on alert and I don't think flying over right now would be such a good idea. So I think it looks like you all will just have to follow my friends to their base." He explains. I gulp, not believing that Russia is fighting America on its own soil. A frown comes to my lips, _so it seems you were right, Makarov, so it seems. I loose a pawn by your rook but what happens when this one general is introduced to the game? _

A couple hours pass and we arrive over a village, some place in Brazil. Rebels are running about as we descend over a soccer field. Rebels start shooting at us, buzzers going off. Nikolai winces, "Use the gun on the pave low!" he orders as he waves off, "The LZ's too hot, I'm waving off!" I take the gun and let out a burst, a group of rebels exploding each way. A wide smile comes to my face as I continue mowing down rebels. A small team comes into view and I accidently almost shoot the head guy.

I throw my hands off the triggers, "Oh gawd! I'm sooo sorry! I-I think I almost shot one of your friends!" I reply in a small voice.

A voice comes through Nikolai's radio, "Nikolai, what the hell?!?! Watch where you're shooting!" growls a Scottish voice.

I blink, "Oh my god! It's an Irish person! I think he's a leprechaun!" I squeak, stifling a laugh as I feel high on adrenaline from mowing down all those rebels.

There's a pause before the man speaks again, "Nikolai, how many times have I told you _not_ to pick up hitch hikers?" grumbles the voice tensely.

I gawk, offended at being called that, "Hey! I am NOT a hitch hiker, Mr. Leprechaun man!" I pout, folding my arms.

"Oh, I sweat to God I'm going to punch who ever you are in the face as soon as I get in the plane." Snaps the Scot.

I scoff, smirking, "Heh, yeah right! Don't you know it's illegal to punch girls in the face? I don't care that you have the fighting Irish in ye blood, leprechaun man-" I start humorously.

"I AM NOT A FUCKING LEPERCHAUN!! I'M SCOTTISH, **NOT** IRISH!!" snaps the man bitterly.

I smirk, as I wave him off, "Mmhm…I'll believe it when I see it." I retort playfully. I hear him growl something under his breath darkly.

A second later, he jumps back on the radio, "Quick, jump across the roofs!" he barks.

"I can't do it captain!" I tease, mocking his accent, as I laugh at my own joke.

"I swear, I am SO pushing you out of the plane kid. Not even joking." He grumbles.

Nikolai flies over them, noticing a large group of rebels following after them, a smirk appears on his face, "From up here, it looks like the ENTIRE village is after you!" he comments.

"Tell me something I don't know!" snipes the Scot.

I smile, "OK, you're really Irish and your mom put you up for adoption so you're an adopted leprechaun!" I laugh, almost falling out of my seat. Making fun of this guy is too easy and lightens my mood. Sure once he's in here he'll kick my ass, but it was worth it.

"Oh will you shut-" he starts.

"We're running out of roof top!" remarks another voice, British.

Nikolai lands on a roof a couple roofs a head of the team and opens the back ramp. I look back as they reach a gap between the roof the plane is on and the on they're running on. They leap across, all clearing the jump. But one lands short, hanging on the edge of the roof as a Mohawk man dashes over to help him. Sadly the Mohawk man isn't fast enough for the last guy falls to the ground. I look at Nikolai, "We lost a man." I comment seriously, my smile gone from my face. The Mohawk man joins his team in the plane, standing in the open side door as he communicates with the man on the ground. Nikolai pulls up and starts flying, coming to a hover over a canyon where the village drops off. I exit the cock pit and take my seat next to moli. A man in a skull mask sits to my left, silent. I scoot over to Moli, the man's presence creeping me out.

The Mohawk man gives a sigh of relief, "Alright Nikolai, take us home." He breathes, turning around. His face turns cold, scars running across his hardened face. His blue eyes canvas us, "OK, which one of you moppets called me a leprechaun…" he growls furiously.

I stand up, placing my hands on my hips, "Well Mr. Leprechaun, so we meet at last." I reply, smiling at him darkly.

He stands across from me, his expression not amused. "So you're the one who called me a leprechaun." He growls.

I nod, "Yeah, what cha gonna do about it?" I question, not fazed by his icy blue eyes glare into mine.

He cracks his knuckles and I'm slightly afraid, "Teach you some manners." He retorts.

Panicking, I feel the gun behind my belt and I reach for it slowly, "Well you know what? I don't think your going to be doing that." I answer, smiling slyly as I whip out the pistol and aim it at him, "Because I have the upper hand." He raises his hands in a meek surrender, his team mates clicking their guns at me. I gulp, feeling like I've been pushed off the mountain of control. But my friends all aim their guns back at the group. Even Kayla, who shares a nod with me, aims her gun and I feel we're back to being friends.

He smirks, "You won't shoot me…" he states, thinking as if he knows me.

I frown, looking at him darkly, "Tch, you don't know me." I growl under my breath.

The man who didn't make the first jump finally joins us in the plane and is greeted with Jasmine pointing her run at him. He gawks, "Can I at least get in the damn plane first?!" he asks, breathing heavily from the run through the village. Jasmine relaxes her hold on her gun and motions with her head for him to enter. He scrambles into the plane and sits in the corner, Jasmine's gun trained on him.

I'm about to crack a wise ass joke but the Scot easily disarms me and aims my pistol at me. My friends switch their guns to him. I blink, smiling sheepishly, "Oh, well then. I guess you win this round Leprechaun boy." I state jokily.

He stares at me intently, his eyes piercing me like daggers, "Who the hell are you all anyway?" he asks.

I sigh, folding my arms, "Please, I don't answer questions when guns are being aimed at people. Someone's finger is bound to slip and we wouldn't want that. Now, we can talk about this like reasonable adults. Without the use of guns, can't we Mr. Leprechaun?" I ask seriously. The Scot turns this over in his brain, finally agreeing with me as he spins the gun in this hand and hands it to me so I grab it by the handle. I take it gingerly as I look up at him, "There, now that wasn't so hard. Oh and don't think I wouldn't have shot you." I reply, clicking the trigger and he winces back but nothing happens, "The pistol only had one shot and I used it. Seems Makarov has a cruel sense of humor…" I sit back down, staring at the Scot blankly. I shake my head, placing my pistol back behind my belt. The Scot sits across from me, sharing my blank look.

"So wait, you met Makarov?!" he questions, looking at me doubtfully. I nod simply, feeling there is much to tell. There's a silence before he continues, "What would Makarov want with a bunch of civies?" he grumbles under his breath, thinking out loud.

Moli looks up, beaming, "We have names, you know. I'm Moli, the Lt. That's Erin and she's the captain!" she chimes, going on to introduce the rest of the group.

The Scot looks at me questionably, "_You're __a captain?" _he scoffs, not believing it.

Moli scowls, placing her hands on her hips, "Hey, shut up Mr. Man! She's the best damn captain there is! It's because of her that we were able to get through all the stuff we did! See, we got cornered at our hotel by our two guides. But Erin here was able to talk 'em out of killing us!" tells Moli. I shrug, not thinking it's really that big of a deal. "Then, Erin planned an escape route to the American embassy…oh it was funny too, because she said we should have an accent to fool any Russians who stopped us. So we came up with the easiest accent to pull off: British!" laughs Moli.

The skull mask man looks at me, his brow furrowed, "British…really?" he growls, his British accent flaring.

I scratch the back of my head uneasily, "Uh, aha ha! It's true, though!" I respond defensively.

Moli nods, looking back at the rest of the group, "Yeah, and then the embassy EXPLODED! So we were all like, 'oh no, now what?' But then these Russians kidnapped us, Makarov being behind it. He then had his cronies put us to sleep and we were scattered around an abandoned village. The objective being to kill our friends. But, once again, Erin comes up with the perfect plan. One of our friends, though, went rouge and almost killed Erin. So she had to kill him. But! It was self defense so it's all good! Anyway, she saved me from a sniper and then included me in the plan. I texted our friends to meet up, Erin killed a sniper to get the loyalists to realize the ultranationalists peeps were there. Then Erin came down and revealed we were being tracked by wireless heart senors. So she shot at the wall and I tore mine off. She did that to all of us. Then to her self, except with her pistol. From there she led us out while the two forces battled it out. Erin stopped us but I ran into the street and almost got shot! But Chris, my awesome boyfriend-I love him-saved me! Taking the bullet for me." She explains further.

I snap my head up, an 'oh crap' look on my face, "Oh crap that's right. Do you have a medic on you team because he kinda got shot…" I state, pointing at Chris who's starting to loose color in his face.

The Scot nods at the man who missed the landing, "Roach, go." Orders the Scot shortly. The man, now known as Roach, nods and walks over to Chris. He delivers first aid.

"So then we got out, Erin tended to Chris's wound as much as she could. From there, we walked and came to an abandoned farm village. Then Nikolai flew in with his helicopter. Erin, Alex and Chris went up, threatening to shoot him if he didn't give us his helicopter. But then he revealed only a small number of people could fit. But then he offered us a ride in his plane and we jumped on the offer. So, here we are! Now, who are all of you?" she asks, after finishing up the story.

The Scot blinks, "Well, I'm Captain Mactavish. That's my Lt. Ghost and I believe you know Roach as the medic." Replies the Scot, revealed now as Mactavish. Ghost nods, not surprised he's the one with the skull mask. Roach finishes up patching Chris's wound and smiles kindly at us.

I nod, crossing my arms, "Charmed."


	13. Lean on Me

Night Falls, sending my friends into deep slumber. Even Roach has fallen asleep, with his head against the wall. I let out a sigh, wishing I could take part but every time I close my eyes, Bob is there. Mactavish is falling asleep but is fighting it. Sighing irritated, I roll my eyes, "Mactavish, go to sleep. Its obvious you want to." I grumble.

He looks at me intently, "No, I don't want to! Besides, why don't _you_ go to sleep?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in interest.

"Because I don't want to!" I shoot back angrily as I cross my arms, glaring at him.

He smirks, "Well then I guess we share a feeling of not wanting to sleep." He mutters sleepily, yawning, "So…Makarov. What did he tell you?" He looks at me, the sleep in his eyes changing to serious.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Nothing, just that he was really behind the attack on the airport." I reply innocently. For the most part, that's the truth. But it didn't feel necessary for me to tell him in detail what Makarov told my group of friends and I. Does it feel like I'm lying? No, I'm just picking what cards to show carefully. Sure this guy seems nice, but so did our two guides back in Russia. I'll keep my poker face on, see what he does.

He nods dully, sleep badgering him. "mm. Well then I guess you're a little ahead of the game with that information, aren't you?" he mumbles.

I sigh in irritation, hating how he's starting to get on my case. With out forewarning, I quietly sang the prelude 21/1 by AFI. After, Mactavish gives into the temptation of sleep and I let out a silent sigh of relief. Honestly, I hate it when people pry. He was prying, wanting to know what else I knew about Makarov. Hell, he was just trying to get into my head, making me think we're friends. But it takes me a long time for myself to trust someone, even my group of friends. I pause and look over at them, smiling softly at them. Knowing how far we've come, through thick and thin, I knew I could always trust them. And vice versa. I've promised myself I'd never let anything happen to them. My smile slips from my face, as I feel I've failed them. I sigh as I lean back against the seat and stare at the floor.

"Something troubling you?" a British voice asks me suddenly to my left.

I jump, looking over at Ghost, my heart pounding in my ears, "Jesus Christ! You scared the hell out of me! What are you, a ninja?" I hiss, looking at him distastefully.

A smile crease forms in his mask as his green eyes peer over his sun glasses, "They don't call me 'Ghost' from being overly chatty." He admits, light-heartily.

I smile weakly, "Yeah, so, uh, why are you asleep?" I ask quickly, changing the subject so he doesn't repeat his question.

"Funny, I could ask you the same thing." He said, raising an eyebrow questionably.

I look away, glaring at the floor, "I-I'm just not tired, OK? What's your reason?" I answer back fiercely.

He sighs, scratching the back of his head, "Well, I have trouble sleeping." He replies vaguely.

I blink and look over at him, interested in knowing the story behind that statement. "Really…well that's me now. Guess we share something in Common. So, what's the cause of your insomnia?" I question, staring at him intently.

He shrugs, looking away from my curious eyes, "I killed my best friend and team mate…when we were captured and pressured to kill the other. He had been brain washed…and-I killed him. It still haunts me to date…plaguing my dreams." He mutters softly, troubled.

I frown softly and sigh, "I'm sorry…" I reply back quietly. He nods looking over me.

"So who haunts you, my dear?" he asks, playfully with the question I had been avoiding.

I glance over at Kayla then back at him with a look of sadness dancing across my face. "Remember what my friend Moli told you about the guy I killed? Well, I keep seeing him every time I try to close my eyes. Kayla called me an 'insane homicidal killer'…do you agree?" I ask, staring up at him.

He blinks before shaking his head, "No, I don't know so. From the sounds of things, it was in self defense. Look, the first kill is always the hardest to forget. But trust me, you'll get over it. Especially since you didn't mean to kill 'em." Replies Ghost calmly.

Shaking my head, I look away from him in shame. "I'm going to be frank with you, Ghost. I hated him…I _despised_ him. In the back of my mind, I wanted him dead. I'd pretend to like him because he was my friend's boyfriend, but he mad it painfully obvious that he hated all of us as well. Tch, but now he's dead and I feel no remorse for my actions against him. Hell, the only thing I was worried about after I killed him-wasn't the fact I had just ended someone's life-but rather what consequences I'd face…" I mutter, running a hand through my hair. All of this, it weighs heavy on me. _Makarov, why did you pick us? Did you know my hate for Bob and wish to see what I'd do when given the opportunity to kill him? If so, then I guess I did exactly what you wanted…_ Tears brim my eyes as I place my head in my hands, "God, I-I going fucking insane." I breathe shakily.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and I look up to see Ghost. "Sleep deprivation tends to do that to people…trust me, I know. How long have you gone without sleep?" he said as he speaks with soothing comfort.

I sit back, resting my head against the wall as I stare up at the ceiling, "Counting tonight, I'd have to say about 48 hours." I mumble, my body feeling absolutely dead and like it's about to crash any second. But the fear of seeing Bob again in my dreams causes me to keep up this loosing battle.

Ghost blinks, giving me a look of puzzlement, "48 hours? That's impossible, you must be completely drained!" he gasps.

I nod, feeling my body gaining up on me and dragging my eye lids down. Gritting my teeth, I force my eyes open, "You have no idea…"I mumble drowsily, feeling my eyes gain more and more pressure as they plead for me to shut them. I shake my head weakly, trying to shake the heavy feeling of sleep from me to no avail. "B-but every time I close my eyes…the guy I killed is there and, and-" I stutter, choked up.

Ghost shakes his head, "You need sleep, kid. Don't worry, I'll be here when you wake up." He reassures me.

Slowly, my head slumps onto his shoulder as my body wins this fight. "Thanks….Ghost…" I mumble, as my voice slowly dies away. My eyes shut and my mind slowly drifts off. To my relief, no killer greets me, simply empty dreams.

I don't know how long I've been out, but I feel absolutely rested when I open my eyes. Blinking, I realize I've been sleeping with my head on Ghost's shoulder. I blush, moving my head slightly as I feel Ghost's head resting against mine. I glance my eyes up at him, listening to his steady breathing. The rest of the group is still sleeping as the sun peeks above the incoming horizon. Yawning, I rest my head back against his shoulder as I feel completely safe by his side.

A few minutes later, I feel Ghost's head lift from mine. I keep my eyes closed, but listen to him. Across from me, I hear Mactavish stiff. "Aw Ghost, looks like you got your self a little girl friend." Teases the Scotsman.

Ghost smirks, "Jealous I always get the girl?" he replies jokily.

"Tch, yeah right." Mumbles Mactavish. Silence engulfs the two comrades. "You shouldn't get too attached though, Ghost. It'll impair your judgement." Growls Mactavish seriously.

Ghost sighs, rolling his eyes, "Mactavish, I'm not. I'm being nice and providing a shoulder to lean on for her. There's nothing wrong with that." He mutters sharply.

Mactavish sighs, "Just warning you…" he states dryly.

I stir to life, finally deciding to be apart of this conversation about me. Sitting up, away from Ghost's shoulder, I stretch, "Well, g'morning Mr. Leprechaun." I chime as I laugh at his look of distaste.

"So I guess that's my nick name now, isn't it?" he hisses.

I smile as I tilt my head to the side, "Yeah, 'fraid so mate!" I laugh. Ghost stifles a laugh, looking away from Mactavish, so he doesn't notice.

Before Mactavish can retort, Nikolai calls back, "ETA 15 minutes, oh and good morning everyone from the land of the righteous." He calls with a smile wide on his unshaven face.

My friends groan, not happy to have been woken from their peaceful naps. "The land of the righteous? What are we, in heaven?" asks Jasmine, looking around puzzled.

Mactavish shakes his head, grinning as he replies, "No, even better: Hawaii."


	14. Hopefully

The pave low lands smoothly on a military base. Nikolai opens the back ramp and we all walk out, Mactavish walking out with his team first with us falling shortly behind. Out of no where, I and my friends are surrounded by soldiers with their weapons trained on us. We snap our hands up in a meek surrender. I scoff bitterly, feeling like the familiar taste of déjà vu in my mouth as I stare down one of the soldiers. He shirts uncomfortably, looking away from my unsettling glare. Mactavish stops and looks over at the soldiers surrounding us, glaring at them with a hard look of indifference, "Step down, soldier. They're with us." He growls darkly.

"Oh really?" one mumbles, keeping his eyes on us.

I step up, frowning at him, "Yeah, really. We're Americans…we were brought to Russia by Makarov for some stupid mind game. Now here we stand-the Wisconsinites! And I'm the Captain." I add humorously, as I lower my arms in a bored surrender.

"Well, you heard the Captain….Now back down." Barks an American voice. The soldiers quickly oblige the man, saluting him. He approaches us, a hard look of indifference sits on his face as he is clade in desert cameo, and a bushy mustache sits on his face. "Welcome to Pearl Harbor 2.0. I'm General Shepard." He states, putting his hand out for me to shake. Honestly, by the way he looks and talks it's obvious he's the stereotypical general you see in movies.

I blink, looking from his hand to this face. _Could this be the guy Makarov was talking about...? _I shake his hand apprehensively, "Pleasure meeting you, sir." I remark clearly.

He nods, looking over at Mactavish and his team, "Mactavish, briefing at 1300. And great job in Brazil." He boasts loudly.

Mactavish doesn't share in his loudness, as he frowns dismally, "Thanks sir, but we lost two men." he comments.

Shepard nods solemnly, "Shame. But at least they died fighting." He sighs. But I see little remorse in his cold, blue eyes. Sure he may not have known those two men, but he literally seemed to think nothing of them. By the way he looks at his soldiers, just by this first impression, I get the feeling that he doesn't think much of them. I frown, Shepard's attitude fitting the man Makarov described suitably. He looks at me, smiling kindly. "One of my soldier's will show you to an empty tent for you and your friends." He informs, motioning for the soldier I had stared down to perform this task. He hesitantly approaches, introducing himself shortly as Jerry.

We follow Jerry and I can see he's a new guy. He smiles sweetly at us and his eyes shine brightly, not tainted with the horrors of war that soon would engulf them. I glance back at Shepard, his fake smile gone and replaced with a harden look. I glare at him, a strong hate for him though I've never met him. Jerry gabs, becoming warmed up to us. He talks about the base, where everything is located and such as we walk down a row of tents. I walk by him, smiling up at him sweetly, "Hey, I'm sorry for being a bitch back there dude. I'm normally not like that." I apologize, scratching the back of my head.

He smiles, shrugging, "Oh, it's OK. I forgive you, kid. But seriously, if looks could kill, I'd be dead." He remarks light-heartily.

I smirk, and then glance back. "So, what's up with that Shepard guy? He seems…a little off." I admit, choosing my words carefully.

Jerry bits his lip and looks around before setting his eyes into mine, "Well, you'd be a little off too if you led 30,000 men to their death. He was the commander of the force that died in the atomic blast 5 years ago." Jerry reveals, fidgeting nervously. I blink then look away, feeling my heart drop as I remember that date clearly.

We come upon a tent and Jerry leads us into it. Eight beds sit in perfect order as my friends collapse onto them in fatigue. I look back at Jerry, "So, thanks for the tour." I said, smiling at him. He nods before leaving us to ourselves. I watch him leave then walk back to my friends as my fake smile drops. "We got to get the hell out of here…" I breathe, pacing nervously.

Kayla blinks, scratching her head. "Why? People here seem really nice." She comments blankly.

I shake my head, stopping my incisive pacing, "Guys, don't you remember Makarov talking about that on General who's betraying America? THAT'S Shepard!" I snipe in hushed tones, just in case someone is walking past.

"Oh my-how do you know?!" ask Courtney, staring at me in question.

I throw my hands up, "Makarov said the General led 30,000 men to their death and needs this war for his reconciliation! He knew the Russian army was too weak to beat his force so that's why he came up with that plan." I growl, my hate for Shepard increasing ten folds. Things now were starting to come into focus. Could it be that Makarov planned this all for some kind of vengeance against Shepard? Heaving a heavy sigh, I flop down on a bed. Something falls out of my pocket and onto the ground. I blink and pick up the object, seeing it's a flash drive. _A flash drive, what the- _

Two men enter the tent and I quickly place the flash drive down my shirt and turn to them. "You're needed for some questioning." Growls the first man as his bald head shines dully against the Hawaiian sun.

I frown darkly at their unannounced entrance as I fold my arms across my chest. "Oh really, why me?" I ask, staring both of the men down.

Baldy rolls his eyes, "Because you're the 'captain' of your 'team'. Now come on!" he growls, forcing me up by grabbing my upper arm.

He leads me out, the other man holding my other arm tightly. I scowl, "You know, I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, thank you very much!" I grumble as I stumble along.

The other man scoffs, "Yeah, but you'll run-" he tries reasoning.

I scoff, shooting him a look, "Where?! I'm on a fucking army base on an island! Like I'd get anywhere!" I yell, trying fruitlessly to break from their grasps. Furrowing my brow, I can tell it's not working.

"Oi, what are you two doing with her?" questions the familiar Scottish voice of Mactavish.

They stop and look over at the approaching captain. "Shepard wants her in questioning right away to see what she knows about Makarov." Replies Baldy flatly, not in the least bit happy to have been stopped.

Mactavish folds his arms, giving them a look of destain. "Well that's understandable…but you don't need to treat her like a criminal." He states shortly.

The two soldiers grumble something before letting go of me. I rub my arms then look over at Mactavish, smiling brightly, "Thanks Mactavish, always good to have a level headed person around." I said as I shoot the two soldiers looks of disgust. I glance back at Mactavish, noticing he's carrying a bag. "Hey, you're going somewhere?" I ask, blankly.

He nods, "Yeah got a mission that we leave for tonight. We won't be back for a couple days…think you can stay outta trouble for that long girl?" he adds jokily.

I smirk, shrugging, "I'll try to, Mr. Leprechaun. Good luck." I reply lightly. He nods with a small smile on his face before turning and going back to his tent a few away from mine. I sigh, letting my smile slip from my face. _Hopefully, I'm wrong about Makarov's so-called plan...hopefully. _


	15. Deceitful

The interrogation room is located in the one A/C controlled building located on base. The room is the typical, stereotyped room with a mirror that actually is a one way window. I sit at a steel table that's wielded to the floor, in a cold chair. Baldy starts the questioning off with the basic information questions referring mostly to me. After retelling the accounts in Russia for the fourth time, the questions start getting deeper. He sits across from me, his arms crossed. "What do you know about Makarov?" he growls in question.

I sigh as I roll my eyes. I sit back in my chair and look at the man with boredom. "Well, he's a terrorist, ultranationalist, is about mid-forties, has two different colored eyes, spiky black hair and likes to talk in riddles. That's about it." I reply lightly, smiling at him sweetly. After all, Jasmine always said 'Smile, it confuses people'. But Baldy looks anything but confused, in fact he looks like he's about to explode.

He jumps up, slamming his hands on the table. Yep, I knew he'd explode. "Do you think this is funny?" he snaps darkly, his green eyes fixed on me.

I smirk, shaking my head as I scoff at him. "No, I think it's hilarious how you actually think I know something important about Makarov-Oh wait! I got it...He's Russian." I present proudly, grinning at him widely as I feel no harm in my little game I play with him

A sharp slap hits my cheek, causing my head to jerk to the side. I touch my cheek and wince as I look up at him darkly. _And so it seems you don't want to play the game..._ "Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know or am I going to have to slap you again?" he said, frowning at me distastefully.

I loo at him, then turn my un-slapped cheek to him. "Go ahead. Make. My. Day." I snarl, setting him up.

He brings his hand back, intending to deliver another hard slap. But before he has the chance, Shepard enters the small room. "Stand down soldier. There's no need to use excesses force, now get outta my sight." He grumbles darkly. Baldy salutes him tensely before exiting the room. The door slams behind him and now I'm up against Shepard, the king close to being checked. Shepard folds his arms and looks at me intently, "Sorry about that, he has issues with anger management." He informs me dully.

I nod, mocking his action, "So, the old good cop, bad cop routine?" I ask humorously.

A rare smile crosses his face under his brushy mustache. "You could say that…" he replies.

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. "So, what's your little spiel?" I question, gazing at him with interest. His look switches to a harden expression, one that most veteran cops wear. I stifle a laugh as I think of him in police blue. Then an idea strikes me: why not trick his king into checkmate? All's fair in love, chess and war, right? I smirk, closing my eyes, "Look, Shepard. You want me to tell you what I 'know' about Makarov? Then I suggest your team who's watching a recording me, step out of their secret room behind the one way glass. Because this Tibet of information is only going to 'benefit' you, my friend." I state firmly, opening my eyes as I watch his look change to confusion.

He tosses this around and decides finally to give into my demands. He looks behind me at the glass, signaling to the occupants to leave. After a while, he looks back at me. "Alright, what do you know?" he growls darkly.

My smirk falls into a tough frown, "Shepard, Shepard, Shepard…you lost 30,000 men in the blink of an eye. One of them was named Paul Jackson…he was my father, you cheeky bastard! He died because of your poor choices!" I snipe sharply at him, narrowing my eyes at him.

He blinks, then looks down at the list, "But you said your last name was Tanili-" he starts, looking at me in shock and confusion.

But I cut him off, "That's my mom's maiden name, idiot. You didn't honestly think she'd keep the last name of her husband after the traumatic event, did you? But, that's not the Tibet of info I was talking about. I just felt you needed to know why I'm saying these things." I reply smoothly as I stand up and walk around to where he sits. I lean against the table by him, crossing my arms. "Shepard…Makarov told me everything. I know you used him to attack the airport, making it look like America did it. So you'd get a war to show the world your 30,000 death toll mistake was nothing more than a mistake. You, sir, have betrayed all of America. Oh but don't you worry your little balding head, I can't bring this to court. It's hearsay, inimitable! Course, it could still slander you and make you look like more of an ass. If you want me to stay quiet, I'll issue an ultimatum. My friends are to not be harmed in anyway and they are to be taken back home. If something should befall of them, if the plane crashes because of weather or one of them trips and skins their knees, do believe I will blame you." I demand, standing up.

I start for the door, Shepard sighs. "So I'm guessing your no longer on our side of the board." He mutters shortly.

I stop and look back, staring at his reflection in the mirror. A smirk crosses my lips, "I never was on your side. I'm a free agent and Makarov's side is the highest bidder as of this moment." I remark. Truly, I felt like Makarov had slowly coaxed me into his army of chess pieces. After all, I almost lost multiple times but danced around the pieces with ease and grace. Now I stand, in check with Shepard. But I choose to let him go-for now. After all, he's playing a dangerous game to be lying at. Think of it as, poker mixed with Russian roulette. You'll only go as far as your bluff will take you and for Shepard, that's not going to be too far.

He glares up at my reflection, "You betrayed us…" he growls harshly.

I smirk, turning away from him, "Please, you betrayed us first. You betrayed America, your soldiers and your morals. I'm simply showing you how it feels. It's called karma…and she's one mean bitch." I remark lightly. I leave him to his thoughts and start back to the tent. But I stop, the flash drive in my shirt poking me. I take it out and look at it questionably then grip it tightly in my fist. I stop a passing soldier, "Excuse me sir, do you know where I can get access to a computer? I want to, uh, e-mail, my mom to let her know I'm alright." I inquire, holding my clenched fist with the flash drive behind me. He points to a tent a couple feet away wordlessly before continuing on his way. I go to call thanks after him but he disappears from sight. I shrug and go to the tent he pointed out. To my surprise, it's a medical tent. I wrinkle my nose_ yeah, thanks for leading me to the fucking medic tent, dude…_ The medic points me in the right direction, to a tent a couple tents down. I enter the tent. A lap top sits near the back, radios connecting to teams sit unoccupied. I ignore them and go to the lap top; a laser scan printer sits next to it dully. Glancing around, I access the computer and plug the little flash drive into it. I open it on the desk top and blink in confusion at what I'm seeing. There are a lot of files that I don't understand their names. A word document calls my attention to it with the title stating: Read this, Erin. I click it open and a document opens, revealing a short letter to me from Makarov.

_"Dear Erin, if you're reading this then I congrats on not dying. Now, you saw all those files, right? That's the evidence needed to condemn Shepard of this actions. I'm entrusting you with these copies, for Shepard will do anything to get his hands on anything that could make him look bad. Now, I need you to go to the file room that's located in the A/C building. You'll need an access pass to enter the room. Pick-pocket one off of someone, steal it; just get your hands on a pass. Once inside, go under 'B' and find the file for bases. I want you to access your e-mail and send me the files. You'll see a new contact, linked to me. The minute it appears in my inbox, I'll call you with the antidote to the poison injected in you and your friends. I suggest you hurry. Sincerely, Makarov." _Tells the document.

I blink, letting the information sink in. A frown fades onto my lips as I grip the flash drive tightly in my grasp. _So it seems I'm working for you Makarov...I guess I wasn't wrong about your plan._

Logging off, I exit the tent and shield my eyes from the sun as it sits slightly above the west horizon. I notice Ghost standing outside his tent, watching the setting sun. My eyes fall back onto the flash drive in my grasp and it's then my mind figures out how I'm getting an access pass to the file room. And it tears me up inside, for I got to betray the man who did me no wrong. I guess this is just the life I've chosen, the path I walk and the move I make on this board game known as life. Oh how deceitful and mischievous a game it is.


	16. When nightmares become real

A/N ^^; I am truly sorry for not having updated in a while, people. I've been quite busy with juggling homework, color guard and life. Now, I apologize in advance for this is going to be a very long chapter. Oh yeah, and bare with me for the first scene. I've never actually written a love-dovey scene. So, with out a further a due, I hope you enjoy this chapter of Russian roulette!

I place the flash drive in a pocket. When Ghost sees me, he waves at me lightly. I smile weakly, waving bat at him as I walk over to him. "So, I heard Shepard hauled you into questioning." He remarks lightly, looking at me in amusement.

I smirk, brushing my hair away from my cheek this is a dull red from the slap. "Yeah and I got myself slapped. So I think it went pretty well." I chime, not letting it effect me.

Ghost blinks, looking at me in bemusement, "So, getting slapped meant it went well?" he asks slowly, trying to understand my quote.

I grin, placing my hands on my hips. "Please, if you aren't getting slapped or tortured in questioning, they their not doing their job right. But…" I said, my smile dropping suddenly, "Can I…talk to you, in private Ghost?" He nods, placing an arm around my shoulder and steering me into the tent.

"So, what do you need to talk about?" Ghost inquires, looking at me intently.

I sigh as I take a seat on a cot. "…Do you believe in premonitions, Ghost?" I ask, glancing up at him softly.

He shrugs, "No, not really. I believe we make our own way in life…premonitions are simply 'sneak peeks' to what's ahead. Why do you ask?" he replies, giving me a curious look.

I sigh, looking away. For the most part, my dreams last night were empty and non-existent. But one dream, that which occurred near the end of my sleep, scared me deeply. Ghost gets shot by a mysterious man then I walk back off a roof. Like some sort of, twisted version of Romeo and Juliet if I do say so myself. _Do I tell him or lie? Well, I'll speak the truth for lies have dirtied my_ _tongue enough. _"Because…I had a dream you and I died. A-and I don't know what it means." I choke, feeling tears brim my eye lids.

Ghost pauses, and then sits on the cot next to me. He pulls me into a strong hug, calming me down. "Hey, those dreams usually don't mean a thing." Ghost reassures me, brushing a tear from my eye.

I look up at him, sniffling, "Yeah…Ghost, thank you…for listening. You've been so good to me. I just wish there was some way for me to repay you." I mutter softly, slowly moving closer to him. My hand rests on his and I glance down at it then up at him. We share a look before our lips meet. Though all I really taste is fabric. I push him back onto the bed softly. My hand travels up to his mask, intending to take it off.

But he grasps my wrist, looking at me seriously. "Don't. Trust me, you won't want to see the real me." He mutters dryly.

I smile softly as I bring my head close to his ear, "Ghost, all I want is the real you." I whisper into his ear. Pulling my head away, I take the mask off of his face. His beautiful jade green eyes stare at me intently, watching my reaction. His face is quite handsome, complete with a brown crew cut. The only thing that strikes me is a deep scar running down his face to the side of his neck. "Ghost, you're handsome. Honestly, I don't know why you wear that." I state. With that, our lips meet once again. I get lost in his warm embrace, that the original mission gets lost as I can only thing of him.

* * *

As I lay on top of Ghost, I hear his steady breath as he sleeps. I blink open my eyes, looking at him as a soft smile plays across my lips. But the original mission crashes into my mind and ruins the moment. I feel absolutely sick to my stomach as I realize I've just played with someone's heart. I sigh and glance around the tent, till my eyes fall onto the small flat rectangular object I'm looking for: Ghost's authorization pass. It sits on a night stand, right by the cot. Glancing down, I see he is still asleep. Carefully, I stretch out and swipe it from the table. I slip it into a back pocket and look down at him once more. He looks so peaceful, asleep with his ruffled hair. I frown as I brush a hair from his face delicately. _Ghost...I'm so sorry. _I sigh, closing my eyes as I get lost in my thoughts. The pieces of the dream haunt me, stabbing me in reminder of what may lie ahead. I open my eyes and look back at Ghost as he continues to sleep undisturbed_. __Oh God, I have an ill-divining soul, I think I see thee now, thou art as low as one dead in the bottom of a tomb. Either my eyesight fails, or thou look's pale [1]. _I lay next to him, curling up with my back to him as I can no longer face him. The sounds of in coming footsteps jolt him from his sleep and I jump from his sudden action. I hear him swear under breath as he hastily puts on his shirt.

"Oi, Ghost! Come on, mate! We're going to be late." Calls the oh-so familiar Scottish voice of Mactavish just from outside the tent.

Ghost pulls out his knapsack from under the bed, rushing about. "Yeah, j-just hold on. I fell asleep and I'm a bit disorientated." He grumbles in his British accent. He looks at me, nodding the back door of the tent. "You should probably get out of her." He states, a hint of sadness in his voice.

I grip his collar, looking up into his green hued eyes. "Be safe Ghost…and I'll see you when you return." I mumble as I pull his lips into mine one last time. We part and I disappear through the back door, closing it softly behind me. I lean my forehead against it, trying to compose myself as I'm on the verge of tears. _Why Ghost, why did my heart choose you? This only makes things all the more difficult. Oh Ghost, if I had a choice, do believe I'd never have done this. But- _I take the authorization pass from my back pocket and look at it intently. _I can't go back; I'm in way too deep. Do believe, I don't do this to betray you…I do it to help bring down the man responsible: Shepard._ I glare thinking of Shepard and his smug attitude. Truly he felt like he had won, like he had planned everything out. Oh but what he didn't account for, was me. Smiling darkly, I continue my walk to the A/C building where the file room lies. The pass wrapped tightly in my grasp. The cool night air ripples through my open sweatshirt sharply. I shiver, drawing the zipper up to cover my tank top. I hug myself as I continue my walk down the lone aisle of the tents. This felt quite symbolic of my life as of this moment. I walk this dark path alone with the constant cold wind slapping me like my conscious. But the objective stands ever so close in the distance. I sigh, looking around before I start my stealth mission. Cautiously, I slip through an open door and start down the hallway. Every other artificial light shines from the ceiling of the deserted hallway creepily. I gulp, following the hall till I stop at a wooden door marked conveniently: file room. Surprisingly, Makarov is correct (thought why shoulder he be?) about the authorization pass. Easily, I swipe it across and the door pops open. Checking around to make sure no one is secretly watching, I end the small room. Following Makarov's instructions to a point, I grab the 'B' file marked bases and skidoo out of there. I hide the file in my sweatshirt and hug myself to protect them. I easily slip back into my tent, darkness greeting me. My eyes adjust and I smile softly at my friends as they sleep peacefully on their cots. They don't know of my change of teams and my smile drops when this though crosses me. I sigh and walk over to my cot. Sitting cross-legged, I stare down at the file and can't help but wonder what Makarov wants with this. But I decide that trying to solve this would be like trying to solve a crossword puzzle as an illiterate. Taking precaution, I slide the file under the mattress before I set my head back down on the pillow. Slowly, my eyes close and sleep engulfs me.

But it's not for long as the nightmares attack like silent ninjas. I'm back at the abandoned village, Bob looming over me. He holds up his Ak-47, ready to shoot me. But it suddenly changes to a revolver, Bob's face still twisted with unimaginable hate towards me. But it's what his voice sounds like that alarm me. "Good, that's one least loose end." Comments the voice of Shepard, as his voice comes through Bob. I blink, staring at him in pure horror. Blinking, I see Bob change abruptly to Shepard. The back drop changes as well, into an open field in the middle of a forest. From the grass, I stare up at Shepard with the inability to move or scream. It's then I notice Ghost, ridged with fear as he reaches for his gun. I want so badly to shout to him, to tell him to shoot the bastard. But Shepard is too fast for him, letting out a shot that enters through Ghost's chest. Silently, I scream at Shepard as tears run down my face.

I blink again, the scene changes to me standing on the edge of a roof top. I'm watching myself stand there, not understanding any of this. When the other me speaks, I hardly recognize it as me, "Goodnight…parting is such sweet sorrow-till it be 'morrow." The me on the edge said, her words coming in and out. She steps back over the edge and I scream. With that, I jolt awake, breathing heavily as I feel cold sweat dot my brow. I sit up, drawing my knees up to my chest. I run a shaky hand through my hair as I rest my elbows on my knees. Feeling grease from my hair rub into my hand, it's then I remember I hadn't taken a shower since back in Russia. _Yeah…t-that's a good idea. I'll take a shower, wash away the nightmare. _I think tensely as I stand up and stalk out of the tent. The lone aisle of tents once again greets me, shadows casted by the near complete moon. The wind plays with my hair lightly as I find my way to the showers. To my relief, their not a community style shower room. Separate stalls separate 10 different showers, each complete with their own shower curtain. A wooden bench sits in the middle of the room. I grab a clean towel and set it neatly on the bench. I strip off my clothes, a little hesitant. But the chance of meeting someone taking a shower this late is _very _slim. So I decide there's no worry. I step into a stall, shutting the curtain behind me. Turning on the water, I feel warmth hit me. The water feels as if it's washing all the bad that has happened and I feel like I could stand under it forever. For once, it seemed lady luck was finally gracing me for someone left a small bottle of shampoo behind. Taking a small glop from it, I work it into my short auburn hair into lather. I let the water wash the soap from my hair and I once again get lost in the warm sensation of the water.

The sound of someone entering the shower room startles me and I slap the calming warm water off. The cold, unforgiving night air hits my body. I'm so unfamiliar with the cold that my body shivers slightly against it. Silently, I peek out from behind the curtain. No one's there and I'm confused because I'm pretty sure I heard the door open. Shrugging, I walk over to the bench and towel dries my hair and body. I slip back into my clothes, zipping up my sweater shirt. Using my fingers as a comb, I try and style my hair to a point. Deciding it's not used, I turn to leave but stop dead in my tracks as I stare into the cold dead eyes of Bob. I try to scream, but I'm too frozen in fear.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" he cackles darkly.

Slowly, I shake my head in disbelief, "No…y-you can't be here! I killed you!" I breathe, trying to understand how he's here.

He smirks, "You killed me. I'm just here to return the favor!" he snarls as his original blue eyes burn blood red. He lunges at me, his hands gripping my throat tightly. I gasp for breath, closing my eyes in pain. When I open them, Bob has disappeared and it's only me in the showers. Slowly, I collapse onto the floor as I tremble violently. I place my head in my hands, as tears fall from my wide eyes. _O-oh God…! I-I'm going crazy…I've fucking lost it! H-he couldn't have been here, no. Not possible…h-he's dead. _

A feel a hand on my shoulder and I jolt away, fearing Bob has come again. Slowly, I look up and breathe easy. I'm staring at a crouched Jerry, the nice new guy who showed my friends and me around, a look of concern on his face. "Hey, you OK kid?" he asks with worry heavy in his voice. I nod slightly, still trembling in fear. His eyes widen, as they fall onto my neck. "Holy-who did that to you?" he gasps.

Unconsciously, I touch my throat delicately, having no clue what he's talking about. "What, what are you talking about?" I ask, weakly as I stand and walk up to the mirror above the sinks. I stare at my reflection, a stranger looking back. My eyes appear darken from lack of sleep, their once bright innocence know reflects dull corruptions. They stand out against my pale skin, making me look just how I feel: dead. But a new feature has appeared and it takes my breath away. Their dark bruises on my throat that looks like I'd been strangled. I breathe heavily, fear stricken at the facts that now are presenting themselves.

Jerry appears behind me, worry still present in his innocent eyes. "What happened? Come on, you can tell me. This isn't the mafia." He pries, chuckling at his joke.

My eyes darken as I whip around to look at him, hatred blazing in my brown eyes. "You have no. Fucking. Idea. You're just a newbie, fresh from basics. I've seen more violence in the past 3 days then you could possibly fathom. This, is too over your head…you couldn't ever understand everything that is happening here. So don't even try." I snap at him, watching him wince as my words slap him. Without apologizing, I stalk out and go back to my tent where I lay out on my cot. I stare up at the tent roof, trying to calm myself down. Sighing, I rest my eyes while my brain still churns along. It keeps me out of dream land, now tainted with death, to become the dark realm of nightmares.


	17. Heroes can't save themselves

By the next morning, my friends have stirred awake. Acting as if I had just waked up, I join them by the first two cots. Their worried looks fall onto my neck, the bruises obviously vibrant against my pale skin. Jasmine goes over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Erin…are you OK? Who did this? Tell me so I can go and kick their fucking ass." She hisses, cracking her knuckles.

I smirk, patting her on the shoulder lightly. "Jasmine, it's nothing. I think I did this in my sleep. You know, during a nightmare. It's nothing, really." I assure them, lying through my teeth. They relax, except for Jasmine. She looks me in the eyes with a look that just screams 'I know you're lying'. I sigh, looking towards the tent door. "Well, I feel like I have restless leg syndrome. Join me for a walk, Jasmine?" I ask, looking at her in question.

She nods, grinning widely, "Sure, I'm starting to get cabin fever anyway." She replies back. Before our friends could utter a word, we disappear through the door wordlessly. After walking in silence for what seems like forever, we stop by an unoccupied tent.

We sit in front of it, silence looming over us. Finally, I decide to break the silence. "Look, I don't know what happened but-I swear Bob tried to kill me last night." I mutter flatly, feeling stupid for telling her this.

Jasmine looks at me the shakes her head. "Revenge from the grave…now THAT sucks." She answers humorously and I can't help but smile, a real smile. She frowns and looks at me, turning serious. "Erin…You've changed. I can tell…" she mumbles sadly. Sighing, I look away. How could I tell her everything that has happened…When I can barely even look her in the face. _She wouldn't understand…_ "Erin? What ever is happening, you can tell me. We're best friends, Erin! We keep each other's secrets." She said, staring at me with her aqua blue eyes. _How could I tell her everything…how __couldn't__ I? _I look at her and finally give in. I end up telling her all about the betrayal, but I keep the part of having connections with Makarov on the DL.

Running a hand through my hair, I look away. "Jasmine, I trust you won't speak a word of this-to anyone. Not the police, the military, hell not even our friends. It'll jeopardize theirs, yours and my safety. You can't trust anyone, they could easily betray you. Especially Shepard, do NOT trust him. Knowing him, he'd do anything to get this level of info-torture if need be! That's why, Jasmine, I intrust you with this information. Because I know you won't give in so easily and that I can also trust you. And, when the time is right, you can help bring Shepard into the light. How? That'll be revealed, all in good time." I explain as I feel tired after having explained almost everything. Jasmine nods, showing she understands the severity of the situation. Standing, I stretch shortly. "Well, now I think we can go back. I'm pretty sure you guys will be safe in Wisconsin soon enough…" I said, muttering the last part.

Jasmine doesn't notice, instead she smiles brightly. "Yeah, who would have guessed I'd miss ole Wisconsin so much!" She laughs lightly as we walk back to our tent.

When we arrive at the tent, Shepard is just stepping out. We blink, Shepard and me sharing a look of indifference between the two of us. "Ah, there you are. I just got done telling your friends the bad news." He said, frowning with fake regret in his cold stare.

Crossing my arms, I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him. "Oh really and what is the bad news?" I question, fearing his answer.

He frowns again; fake dismal dancing in his eyes as he smoothly spoke. "We're unable to bring you all back home. Seems the war has grounded all non-military based flights over the U.S. I'm afraid you're all stuck here." He informs us, hiding his smugness that I know he has.

Jasmine's face falls as she looks at him in shock and disbelief. "The war? What war?" she asks, playing her part of shocked civilian well.

Shepard nods, trying hard to smile with this victory. "Yes, we are now at war with Russian, on American soil. The Russians may have advanced past the cold war, but we have also. No doubt this war will be over in a few months, with us being victorious!" he boasts. He realizes what he's said and coughs, composing himself. "But your not going anywhere anytime soon, I'm afraid." He said sadly.

I nod, faking a smile. "Thanks General." I mutter. Jasmine walks ahead of me into the tent in a daze, letting the shock of war settle in. I glare at Shepard darkly once she's left ear shot of our conversation. "You think your sooo smug, don't you Shepard?" I growl as I grip my hands into fists.

He smiles darkly, "I win-this round, kid. Simply, I need to keep you all here for a little longer to see if I can get any more information out." He explains, intending to go on further into his plan.

But I cut him off sharply, "Don't hold your breath Shepard. I've already told you my friends know nothing." I snipe dully.

He smirks, "Nothing a little 'push' in the right direction can't help." He replies smartly.

I look up at him emotionlessly, done playing this game of who can come up with a better come back. "The deal still stands Shepard; my friends are NOT to be harmed." I growl darkly.

He blinks, seeing how close he'd come to falling into on of my traps on the board. But he brushes it off, smiling forebodingly down at me. "Fair enough, though I don't remember you being a part of the 'no harm' list. But it looks like someone beat me to it." He said sarcastically, as he pokes my throat so suddenly that I cringe back in fear and pain.

Gulping painfully, I touch my throat unconsciously. "…Yeah, so it seems. Tch, besides," I said, changing the subject as I smirk at him, "You already know what I know so there'd be no point in torturing me any further. It'd be a valuable waste of time and resources." Proudly, I place my hands on my hips and smile at him cunningly.

He scoffs, shaking his head in defeat. "True, very true." He mutters before walking away.

I watch him leave, a sly smile crossing my face. "'Fraid I won _this _round, Shepard!" I call after, laughing as he pretends he didn't hear. I enter the tent, my smile still hanging on my face. My friends are in a solemn mood, smiles absent from all their faces. My smile disappears as well as I realize they must be feeling trapped, not being able to go home as soon as they had hoped. _"Aw, that sucks…not. They need to suck it up, those damn pussies." Growls the voice of Bob in my thoughts. _Silently, I yell at the voices in my head to shut up. _Oh yeah, screaming at the voices in my head to shut up…I am TOTALLY sane…_I look at my friends, smiling weakly. "Hey, don't worry you guys! I'm sure we'll get out of here soon enough!" I state with assurance. _Well, that's true-we'll get out of here soon. But the destination's are gonna differ, a lot. _Courtney nods, tears present in her auburn eyes as Kayla tries cheering her up.

I sigh and walk over to my cot, slipping the files out from under the mattress. Starting to the back door, I hear my friends shift to look at me. "Um, Erin, where are you off to?" Chris inquires as he holds Moli tight.

I stop at the back door and take in a breath of confidence. Turning slightly, I look at my friends. "I got to go, uh, use the computer to talk to my mom." I lie with ease. It's starting to come easier for me now, lying. I don't know if this is a good thing or not. But lying to my friends, it's one of the hardest things a person can do. Especially when your friends look at you so highly, thinking you're their hero. I sigh and walk out, not letting anyone else question my intentions. _I'm no hero…How can I be, when I can't even save myself?_


	18. Unlikely Partners

Author's Note: *scratches the back of her head* Um, well…this is awkward. Heh, I haven't updated in a long time. But! I have a VERY good reason! I blame exams and the last week of school. Literally, it was like a bombardment of school related work from both sides. IT WAS AN AMBUSH! I _never_ saw it coming. But now that my horrid exams are over, it's summer and I can work on my stories a hell of a lot more. So expect faster updates. Hopefully, you guys haven't forgotten me! *sad face* Well, with out further rambling, please enjoy this chapter of Russian Roulette! Oh, and please review!

* * *

I find myself once again in the tent where the laptop sits. No one occupies the tent with me and I'm glad because that wouldn't have helped my paranoid one bit. A sly smile occupies my face as I begin working on my 'end' of the deal.

* * *

Anatoly sits, bent over the computer. He clicks the refresh button repeatedly, waiting for the e-mail. I sigh irritated as I go back to playing chess with Viktor. Viktor isn't nearly as good as me at chess and, to put it plainly, he's a meat head. He only thinks about using force instead of planning out his move. Chess is a game where you truly can see how a person's mind works, how they plan. So far, Viktor has gotten even close to beating me. But every time I claim his king, he always assumes I cheat and demands a new game. I roll my eyes as we reset the board once again. _He such a-_

"Makarov, what if she doesn't go through with it? What if she double crosses us?" Anatoly worries, breaking into my thoughts. He shifts nervously in his seat, his eyes darting from the computer screen to me.

I never remove my eyes from the board, as I take my knight and swiftly knock Viktor's own knight off the board. "She will do it Anatoly. Don't under estimate her…she's more deceiving than you know." I comment sharply. Viktor looks at the board then glares at me. I've easily check mated him in only 3 moves. I look at him emotionlessly as a sly smile crosses my face, "Check…mate," I comment, glancing over at the fidgeting Anatoly, "That's what she is…an enemy to Shepard who has her surround on one side and us on the other. The only reasonable choice is the side that won't come back to betray her." I stat. Sighing I look back at the board with no emotions on my face. _Now, my dear, what's your move? _

Anatoly looks back at the screen, refreshing it once again. He tenses, freezing up instantly. Viktor glances over at him, confusion present in his usual stone cold expression. "Anatoly, did your soul get sucked into the computer or what? Tch, see…that's what happens when you sit in front of the computer too much." He grunts, going back to the game.

Anatoly looks over, ignoring Victor's question. "Makarov, she sent it! You we're right...-n-not that you weren't or that I doubted you it's just-" he adds quickly, stuttering.

"Shut up." I growl, causing him to shut up. I stand and walk over to where he sits. He cringes but I ignore this reaction, taking out my cell phone.

I start to dial and Anatoly sneaks a peek at me, "Sir, s-should I open the e-mail now?" he asks quietly.

Glancing at him, I frown as I bring the phone to my ear. "No, not yet." I order, waiting slightly impatient for her to pick up. A sly smile crosses my face. _So your move is to stand in front of my Queen? Hmph, I knew you'd do that…now let's see how you'll fair when my bishop attacks.  
_

* * *

My phone vibrates in my pocket, causing me to jump slightly in alarm. I take it out and notice the area code belonging to a Russian phone. Of course, I know only on Russian who'd be calling and I click talk while my finger brushes across another button. "Wow, you sure called fast. Tch, it's almost as if you were waiting for my e-mail." I comment, smirking

There's a pause at the other line, a short laugh coming through. "Well, it's not like we have anything better to do. Though, my associate was getting antsy. He thought you had betrayed us." Makarov answers, a smug smile coming through in his words.

I run a hand through my hair, grinning to my self. "Really now…why would I betray you? Between Shepard and you, I hate you less." I reply jokingly.

"That's…good to know." Makarov answers slowly, turning over my comment in his head.

I frown, _he's stalling…something's up, _I think to myself. I laugh, "So, uh, what do you need those files for anyway?" I ask, uneasiness settling in unexpectedly.

Another pause comes from the end of the line. "There's really no point in telling you." He answers curtly, his voice coming off cold.

I frown, "Why do you mean by that?" I ask slowly, not liking how his voice fluctuated so abruptly.

* * *

I look down at my wrist watch, a smug expression on my face. A minute has gone by and that gas placed in her phone will have deployed by now. "Because, dear, you're not going to be alive longs enough for the Intel to have sunken in. Do you feel that? A wave of death, invoke you? Right now, the toxicus gas placed in your phone has gone off. Just a small, concentrated bit but it's strong enough to shut down your respiratory system." I explain darkly, hearing her start to cough uncontrollably on the other end of the line.

"Y-you bastard! I-I…though we h-had a d-deal! W-what a-about my f-friends?" she said, struggling to speak in between coughs.

I laugh slightly, "Oh you're so dense…there was no antidote because there was no poison! Haha, thanks for playing dear..." I remark, going to end the call.

"…M-Makarov…!" she coughs, gasping for air on the other end of the line.

I sigh irritated, rolling my eyes. _This game of chess of over and yet she's naïve enough to try and continue it…?_ "Yes, what more do you have to say my dear? Make it fast because you don't have long." I grumble, waiting impatiently for her comment.

"…N-Never call…m-me dear..." she said, her voice changing abruptly, "I'm not a dear, so don't call me that. Oh, nice try by the way. But it seems I've dodged your move." She laughs healthy, no coughs or lack of breath present.

I blink as my mouth falling agape. _No way, she can't be alive! It's a trick…it's got to be! _I frown, narrowing my eyes. "How…" I hiss, anticipating her answer.

* * *

I grin to myself, holding the phone away from myself slightly. "Cellphones…are wonderful devices, aren't they? One feature I personally enjoy using is speaker phone. There's no need to keep the phone close to your face, but instead at arm's reach in case it may have been tampered with." I explain, walking over to the computer. My hand glides over the file for Makarov delicately. I look up, smirking, "Speaking of 'tampered', have you checked the e-mail I sent you yet?" I ask off handily as I await his response. Makarov remains silent till the familiar song of 'Never Gonna give you up' by Rick Astley sounds from the back ground on his end of the phone line. I burst out laughing, "You've just been Rick rolled, Makarov!" I laugh, trying hard to stop my uncontrollable giggles.

"Why the hell-" he starts, obviously not expecting this outcome.

I spin around in a circle, feeling amazing for countering his attack so easily-and matching him. "Because, I knew you'd try something Makarov. I'm _not_ stupid. I also wanted to be a bitch and rick roll you." I admit sharply, grinning to myself as I answer him.

There's silence and I can tell he's contemplating his next move. I hear him laugh, clapping slowly. "Nice move, a very good counter. Now we know we're on the same page." He states confidently, shaking off his slip up.

I nod, frowning as I get down to business. "Alright…you want these files? Pick me up, tonight on the roof of the A/C building. I know you now where that is." I tell, feeling like he already knew this plan before I thought it. I smirk, "I'll be waiting." I add smoothly, feeling slightly over dramatic.

"…9 PM, sharp." He states shortly before he hangs up. I click off the annoying dial tone and place my phone in my pocket.

A bemused smile sits on my face as I shake my head. "Always got to have the last word, don't you?" I mutter sarcastically to myself. Glancing briefly at a clock, my heart sinks as the clock shows it's only 4:30 PM. _Ugh, four and a haft hours to wait-and to continue lying. Great…wonderful, MAG-FUCKING-NIFICENT! _I thought sharply. I collect the file from the desk and start to leave. But I stop and glance back at the lap top, paranoid slamming me hard. I walk over and look at the electronic. Then, without warning, I slam the unsuspecting laptop onto the ground and watch as it explodes into bits and pieces. A foul smile creeps across my lips as I leave with the deed completed. As I walk to my tent, I glance down at the file in my arms. I sigh, if you had told me at the start of this vacation-turned-horror-trip that I'd become partner's with the mad dog killer Makarov, I would have laughed. But now, I'm not laughing. Hell, I'm still wondering how it all came to this.


	19. A storm

All throughout my walk back to my tent, I'm on edge. Every soldier that passes paranoids me as I worry that they know the file I carry shouldn't be in my possession. But they don't notice, instead they remain caught up in their own conversations as they chat loudly about their weekend passes off base. I make it back to my tent, sighing with relief as I try to calm my nerves. _This is stupid! I-I shouldn't be so freaked out…ugh, I just have to wait till tonight then it'll all be OK. _

_"Yeah right, you'll NEVER be OK!" growls the dark voice of Bob in my head, "You go with Makarov, and I give you 3 months before your dead." _Mentally, I shut him up-I have enough to worry about. Before I can enter the safety of the tent, shielding me from the presences of the soldiers, my phone vibrates once. I tense up, letting out a shaky breath as I take my phone out. A new text sits in my inbox, confusion over taking my once jittery mood. I open the text and read the short message from the oh-so-familiar number of Makarov. _Date change, tomorrow instead. Same time and plan ~M_ I sigh, putting my phone back in my pocket after erasing the text. _Awesome…I have another day to contend with…Fan-FRICKING-tastic…_I thought dully as I enter the tent.

My friends are sitting on the ground in a circle when I walk up to them. Moli looks up and smiles broadly at me. "Hey, come and join our game Erin!" she chimes.

I raise an eyebrow, approaching the circle. "And what game is it that you all are playing?" I inquire, sitting next to Jasmine who glances at me once seriously.

Moli frowns, the mood changing without warning. "Truth; It's where you tell the truth after a question is asked." She explains flatly. All of their eyes are fixed on me and I shift uncomfortably with the stares they give. "Erin, it's your turn." Moli said quietly.

Kayla shifts, coughing to bring attention to her. "What the hell is going on? You've been avoiding us, you HARDLY sleep and….they way you look at us has changed." Kayla remarks boldly as she awaits my answer like the rest of the ground.

I bite my lip, knowing full well my over all being had changed-and they had finally taken note. My eyes glance at them quickly before I sigh, closing my eyes. "I told you guys; Shepard was a bad man-because Makarov told us he planned the war with Russia. What I've failed to tell you all, is I have the evidence to prove this. I've changed, I know. This secret is unbearable but I couldn't burden you guys by telling you sooner. I'm sorry-for everything." I confess, feeling my lies and truth equaling out. I open my eyes, my friends looking at me dismally.

Moli scoots over and hugs me tightly, a soft smile present on her freckled face. "It's OK Erin, we're all friends here. We got you back, no matter what!" she mutters heartfelt words.

I nod, glad to know they were still on my side-and they didn't pry further. They don't' need to know my connection with Makarov and they certainly don't need to now of my departure. The less people know, the safer the operation. Jasmine stand, stretching out her arms. "Alright, this has been quite interesting…and I don't know about you people, but I need some mother fucking food!" she laughs, lighting the mood tremendously.

We all smile at this, agreeing with her. I stand up, Moli latching onto me in a tight hug like she usually does. "Ack, dammit! Does anyone have a crowbar? This thing is latched on tight-and it's making weird sounds!" I joke, laughing as if I hadn't a care in the world. We laugh as Moli unattached herself from me and I let out an overly dramatized breath of air.

As we exit the tent, Jasmine falls in next to me. She looks at me, grinning like a joker, "It's good to have you back, Erin." She whispers so our boisterous friends don't' hear.

I smirk, looking away, "For now, at least." I comment bluntly, looking at her seriously. "Jazz, I trust you won't tell them the info you now. I don't want them getting involved." I mutter quietly. We slow our pace, keeping a distance between our friends so they don't over hear.

Jasmine looks at me, smiling smugly. "I wouldn't dream of it." She assures me confidently. I nod, giving a sigh of relief. We walk in silence, my eyes traveling the tents we pass.

"The time is right…" I mumble to myself. Jasmine looks at me puzzlement as I dig through my pockets. I hide the flash drive in my fist, looking at her with a smile on my face. "High five?" I inquire out of the blue. She blinks, putting her hand up. I give her a high five, passing the flash drive to her secretly through the high five. We pull our hands back and she grips the flash drive tightly in her fist. I share a look with her, knowing we had made an important transaction. Our friends call to us, as they stand impatiently in front of the mess hall. I wave at them, shinning them a bright smile to let them know we're coming.

Jasmine and I start walking as she looks down at her clenched hand. "This is it, isn't it?" she whispers in shocked awe as if she was holding a baby dragon in her hand.

I nod, glancing at her from the corner of my eyes. "When the time comes to shine the light on the dark force, I'll send you the text. Once you all are back in the states, of course." I inform, looking relieved.

Jasmine stops me, walking slightly in front of me. "What do you mean by that…" she asks cautiously as she picks up my words.

I look down at my shoes shamefully. "I'm not going back with you guys. Shepard's determined to contain me here." I state, lying once again. My eyes lock with Jasmine as I give a weak smile, "Don't forget me…and forgive me-for not telling you sooner." I quickly add. Her mouth falls open but she closes it, blinking back tears.

"I could never forget my best friend." She comments quietly. I pat her on the shoulder, smiling with new found strength.

"That's all I need to hear Jasmine, that's all I need to hear." I chime. We turn and start running to catch up with our friends as dark clouds roll in, threatening to pour down on us.

Jasmine slips the flash drive into her shirt, smirking. "Well, if it worked for you…" she said humorously. I laugh as we continue our sprint, cold rain started to fall from the sky. My smile slips slightly as I touch the low collar of my tank top, the wireless heart sensor still stuck to my skin like a leech. I hadn't torn it off like previously thought, when I had 'played' Russian roulette back at the abandoned village. No, it stayed on me to lead him to me-Makarov. I look up at the sky, watching as the approaching storm started to roll in. _There's a storm coming...looks like rough times a head._


	20. Overly Caring Friends

Author's Note: Yeah, I apologize a head of time for this is going to be a very LONG chapter. And I also tried to add some comical relief in this chapter. So I hope it makes you laugh and please review! Now, please enjoy this chapter of _Russian Roulette_!

* * *

We enter the mess hall, the long lunch tables empty of soldiers. I pick my seat, a particularly odd spot, on top of the table instead of a chair. Sitting cross legged, I take in the warm aura of the tomato soup in my hands. My friends sit on the benches, staring at me questionably. "Erin, why the hell are you sitting on the table?" Courtney questions slowly, eating her soup carefully.

I smirk, taking a sip of my soup greedily. My eyes fall onto her, amusement dancing in my dark eyes. "Does it bother you?" I inquire defensively, tilting my head to the side.

She shifts uneasily in her seat, avoiding eye contact with me. I raise an eyebrow, going back to my soup. _She's afraid of…Heh, wonderful. _A smirk forms on my lips, "Well, chairs bother me and I don't feel like sitting in one. So I wanted to be different, my multi-colored hair friend." I explain off handily. This draws a smile from her and the rest of our friends.

Unnatural silence fills the large hall and I glance around. It's obvious this place is usually a hell of a lot louder. But now it's just too quiet. My eyes travel the empty tables, envisioning soldiers eating and talking. For just a second, I swear I almost hear the sound of the mixed voices fill the room and see ghost of soldiers fill the void. When I blink, though, it's all gone. The only sound is the rain pounding against the tin roof, thundering drumming loudly along with the fast beat.

"It's so quiet…too quiet." Alex comments quietly. This draws nods from all of us.

Kayla sighs, stirring her soup plainly. "What do you expect? Most of them are probably over in America, helping with the war effort." She said, staring at her soup dismally.

I nod, setting my bowl down on the table. "And from what I've heard, most soldiers go to town on weekend passes." I add, sighing.

Moli shakes her head, sipping her soup slowly. "It's still too quiet…i-it feels creepy." She quivers, Chris putting his arm around her comfortably.

I shrug, glancing over to the kitchen where the two cooks are chatting with each other. "Well, at least the cooks were here to give us this awesome soup." I comment lightly. "Hey, thanks for this soup guys! It's awesome, is it homemade?" I call to them from across the room.

They look over, glancing from each other then back at me. "Actually, it's Campbell's. It's, from a can." He calls back.

I look at the soup questionably, then at my friends. "Well, I'll be damned." I remark.

Jasmine's mouth falls agape, "N-no, everything I know is a lie! The soup's a lie, the cake's a lie-" she starts listing off, growing in fake hysteria.

My friends and I stifle laughter as we listen to Jasmine's comical remarks. I blink, giving her a weird look, "There's no cake Jasmine." I reveal.

She gives a fake look of shock. "Oh no, they double lied us!" she freaks, starting to hyperventilate. We laugh uncontrollably, memories from lunch flooding our psyches. Everything seems so light in mood, till Jasmine doesn't stop hyperventilating.

Our laughter stops abruptly, panic hitting us. I grip Jasmine's shoulder, "Jazz…are you OK? Ah crap, she's having an asthma attack!" I yell, glancing at my friends in shock. I glance back at Jasmine, "Where's your inhaler?" I demand, seriousness taking over the once chipper mood.

She breathes in gulps of air like a fish on land. "It's i-in….t-the tent!" she answers between breaths.

Nodding, I waste no time. I roll back and push my self off the table. In a flash I'm at the door. "Keep her alive! I'll be right back." I order as I run out into the rain. Dark clouds loom over head, dropping heave amounts of rain on me as I sprint to the tent. I hit puddles, the cold rain water drenching my legs further. _I won't let you die, Jasmine, not on MY watch!  
_

* * *

Out of no where, a lightening bolt hits a pole near me. I scream, diving out of the way of the falling pole. It misses my feet by inches and I tremble violently as I pull myself up from the muddy ground. I glance at the fallen pole once before I turn back and continue my sprint. I burst into the tent, my eyes darting wildly around the inside. The rain has drenched me, soaking me to the bone with wet and coldness. I ignore the feeling, letting the adrenaline rush warm me up as I tear through the tent, looking for Jasmine's inhaler.

When I find it in one of the drawers, I bolt back into the stormy night. The wind has picked up, causing the once vertical falling rain to go diagonally against me. I grit my teeth, knowing I won't have gone to this length for anyone except my friends. The fallen pole crosses my path and I launch my self over. Everything about my jump is perfect-until I land. I wind up in a heap, my ankle throbbing in pain. Rolling onto my side, I clutch my pained ankle as I wince. Weakly, I fall onto my stomach, breathing heavily from the sprint. My lungs burn, telling me to give up and rest. But the gleaming lights of the mess hall, only yards away, tell me to get up. Jasmine's inhaler nestled safely in my pocket reminds me why I had gone through all this.

So, with new found strength, I hoist my self up from the ground and limp painfully to the mess hall. I kick the door open with my good leg and hobble in. My friends look over, as they gather around Jasmine who looks a lot worse then when I had left. "Erin, she's going into shock! We're loosing her!" Kayla cries, frightened.

I pant, knowing I couldn't run (or rather limp) fast enough over to them. So I take the inhaler and pull back my arm. "Kayla, CATCH!" I yell, throwing the inhaler with all my strength. Everything turns slow motion as the inhaler slowly propels it's self through the air. It drops from the arch gracefully as regular motion returns. Kayla misses the catch but Chris is there with the save. He leaps up and puts the inhaler into Jasmine's mouth, pushing down on the device to release a burst of medicine into Jasmine's lungs.

By the time I manage to limp over, Jasmine's breath has returned to normal. Our group of friends gives sighs of relief. I smile, patting Jasmine on the shoulder. "You gave us quite a scare." I comment quietly as I feel my nerves calm down.

Jasmine grins, beaming at me. "Yeah, but you save me. I really owe you!" she remarks, shaking slightly from the near death experience. I frown slightly. _You're protecting the flash drive...so we're even._ I think silently to myself.

Moli looks at me, concern clouding her aqua eyes. "Erin, are you hurt?" she gasps.

I wince, remembering the pain in my ankle. But I don't want them worrying. "N-no, I'm fine, really! Besides, we should be worries about Jasmine. She just had an asthma attack!" I retort, trying to change the subject.

Jasmine shakes her head, standing up. She stares me down, the look that just screams she knows I'm lying. "Erin, I'm fine now. But you, you were limping before. You hurt your ankle, didn't you?" she said plainly.

I scratch the back of my head, looking away uneasily. "Well, I believe so-but its nothing-" I start, looking at them pleadingly not to blow it out of proportion.

Jasmine points to the table demandingly. "Looks like we're going to have to RICE it." She explains.

One of the cooks, still hanging around in the kitchen, raises his head slowly. He looks over, holding up a bag of rice. "Rice…?" he questions.

Jasmine narrows her eyes, pouting childishly, "No, not actually rice. It's an anagram, RICE means rest, ice, something with C and elevation. Now, lay on the table Erin and let's have a look." She clarifies, turning back to me. I sigh, hesitantly pulling my self up onto the table. Though I try my best not to use my injure ankle, I stupidly put some pressure on it. I wince, pain renouncing in my ankle. Jasmine nods slightly, taking note of this. She looks at our friends, "Right, we need ice. Kayla, Courtney, get to it. Moli, go find something to elevate her ankle." Jasmine commands as she walks over to me. Moli, Courtney and Kayla nod before disappearing into the kitchen.

I blink, slightly taken aback by how she took command of the situation. I smile to myself, seeing how Jasmine would easily take over to me once I'm gone. My smile slips from my face, as I feel sick inside. But I hide my feelings when Jasmine approaches me, beginning to unlace my converse on my injured foot. I sigh, sitting up. "Hey, let me do that! My hands aren't broken." I state flatly. I easily unlace them, slipping the soaked shoe off. "Jasmine…you're gonna be a great leader, I just know it." I mumble, so Chris and Alex don't hear.

She smirks, laughing slightly. "Hey, I learned from the best." She replies quietly, punching me softly in the arm. I smile, as I take the shoe off and pour the water out of it comical like. Jasmine rolls her eyes, stifling a laugh.

Silence fails suddenly as she takes a look at my ankle. I cough, "It's a real monsoon out there!" I said randomly, trying my best to combat the silence. When Jasmine fails to answer, I look over.

She's staring at my ankle in shock. "Holy crap-does it hurt?" she asks, poking my ankle.

I cringe in pain, taking in a sharp intake of breath. "Uh yeah, IT DOES! Now please refrain from POKING it!" I growl through clenched teeth. Jasmine smiles sheepishly, apologizing. I glance down at my ankle and see how she was shocked into silence. My ankle is the size of a tangerine and reddish in color. I look away, the mere sight of ti paining me. Moli appears with a small stack of pillows in her arms. I share the rest of our friends' looks of bewilderment. "Moli…where the _hell_ did you get pillows from?" I finally ask.

She grins awkwardly, motioning with her head to the kitchen. "The cooks. They had some pillows back there." She answers innocently.

I blink, my eyebrow still raised. "Why the hell did they have-you know what on second thought, I'm not gonna ask." I said, changing my mind. They put my leg on top of the pillow stack, elevating my ankle above my heart level. I lay back down, propping myself up slightly with my elbows.

Kayla and Courtney walk over with a bag of ice. They set it gingerly on my ankle. A cold shiver goes up me and being soaked from the rain doesn't help. I shiver slightly, realizing I've been trembling since I've enter the cool air conditioned room. My friends sit back down around me. Jasmine raises a smug eye brow at the ice sitting on my ankle. "Now why do they have ice in the kitchen?" she asks, laughing at her joke.

I roll my eyes, sipping my now lukewarm soup in vain hope it'll warm me up. Moli narrows her eyes at Jasmine. "Oooo, must you always question everything!" Moli grumbles childishly.

Jasmine grins widely, "Oooo, now why wouldn't I?" she asks, purposely forming it into a question to annoy Moli.

Moli glares at her, jokingly shaking her fist at Jasmine. "Oh, you!" she laughs.

Chris looks at me, poking me in the arm. "Hey, you look cold." He points out, making everyone else notice.

I furrow my brow, "N-no, I'm f-f-fine." I try reassuring them through chattering teeth. _Ugh, they really are starting to get on my nerves with all this helping crap…_

Jasmine lays a warm hand on my arm, "Yeah…you're not fine." She said, her voice fading off.

I move my arm away from her touch, her warmth only elevating the goosebump. My eyes fall from their looks of concern. "You know, running out like that was heroic-but stupid. You could have really hurt yourself and not have been able to get here…and we won't have known where you were…" Courtney said quietly.

I glance up, anger flaring behind my eyes. But I don't show it as I fake a smile with clenched teeth. "Yeah, well that's what heroes do-perform what's necessary to save/help people despite the consequences to themselves. Besides, I-I'm only cold 'cause this soup has gotten cold." I explain, changing the subject.

I move to try and get away but Jasmine grabs my arm. Her eyes burn into mine, "Hey, where do you think you're going? You can't break the first rule of RICE! You gotta rest-" She starts heatedly.

"RIE…you mean." I correct her.

She blinks, confusion overtaking her anger. "W-what?" she asks.

I move my arm away from her grasps, lying back on my propped elbows. "Well, since w-we don't k-know what 'C' is…i-it's technically RIE." I explain innocently, my shivering disappearing slightly.

A warm smile crosses Jasmine's face as she laughs. "Haha, so true." She chuckles, taking my bowl and walking back over to the kitchen.

Sighing I slip myself down onto my back. "This is just WONDERFUL." I grumble as I rub my temples in frustration. _I hope it's just bruised…otherwise getting to the roof tomorrow is going to be hard with Jasmine breathing down my neck. Well, at least it can't get any worst._

I sneeze, shivering slightly. _Ugh, great. It looks like I've caught myself a cold...oh yeah, it totally got worst._ The double doors to the mess hall open, causing us all to look over. Mactavish, Roach and an older man walk in, shielding themselves from the downpour with their jackets. I can't help but smile, feeling happy to see they made it back. But when Ghost fails to appear, my smile disappears. My heart beats faster as I worry something has happened. Mactavish looks over and raises an eyebrow. "Well…now THERE'S something you don't see everyday." He remarks bemused. Roach and the mystery man follow closely behind.

"Hey can I borrow your ice pack for a second?" Roach asks quietly, staring at the ground. I shrug, taking the ice from my ankle and handing it to him.

He takes it gingerly and holds it against his face. It's then we see his face is bruised and battered slightly. "Holy crap, what the hell happened to you?" Kayla gasps, staring in pained shock.

Roach winces, rubbing his injured face tenderly. "Ask him." Roach growls shortly, nudging his head toward the direction of the mystery man.

The man shrugs, as he fixes his camo boonie hat. His dark eyes scan our group as a frown sits under his bushy brown mustache. "I said I was sorry." He answers with a British accent present in his words.

Roach hands the ice pack back to me which I place back on my ankle. He shoots the man a dark look. "How the hell could you have mistaken me for a Russian?" he asks angrily.

The man sizes Roach up, glaring back at him. "I guess 'cause your just as ugly as a Russian that I couldn't tell the difference!" the man snipes back. This draws a chorus of 'oohs' and 'oh snaps' from us.

Jasmine joins us, handing me my bowl which I take and thank her quietly. The two men are continuing to yell insults at each other. "Dude, what I miss?" she whispers, glancing at the two bickering men in interest.

I cough, pointing at the mystery man, "Well, see apparently this man over here-who we'll call Tim-was apart of their mission to retrieve. My guess is when Roach entered the room holding Tim, it was dark or something. So Tim freaked and punched Roach in the face." I explain, listening to the quarrel. I nod, picking up words. "And Roach must have been hurt from some falling rocks because Tim just insulted Roach with 'well at least I didn't get knocked out by rocks.'" I further explain.

Moli raises an eyebrow as we continue to watch the insults fly between the two men with interest. "Why doesn't that Mactavish person step in?" she questions, looking over at me.

I shrug, "Maybe Tim is a long lost friend or something of his, I don't know." I reply. My eyes dart to the doors as I grow in paranoia about Ghost's condition. _Please be OK Ghost!_

I turn back to the fight and Mactavish has finally intervened. He pushes the two away from each other, standing in between them so they don't try anything. "Alright, that's enough you two!" he growls.

Smirking, I close my eyes. "So, who is this new addition to your team Mr. Leprechaun?" I inquire lightly.

Mactavish glance over, slightly embarrassed at my use of the nickname I'd given him. He opens his mouth to respond but Tim beats him to it. "Mr. Leprechaun? What the 'ell?" Tim asked slowly, giving Mactavish a weird look, "And I thought SOAP was a weird name."

Mactavish groans, slapping his forehead. "Oh please, don't give her any idea-" He starts.

"Wait, Soap? One of your nicknames is Soap….?" I break in, stifling a laugh. When I can't hold it in anymore, I burst out laughing. "I guess I can call you Mr. SOAP Leprechaun!" I joke, "Where's your pot of SOAP?"

Mactavish shakes his head, rubbing his temples. "Great…see what you've done Price? Now she has yet another thing against me." He grumbles.

I raise an eyebrow, glancing over at 'Tim'. "So, your name's Price? Well, nice to meet you, I'm Erin." I state, shinning him a smile as I introduce the rest of my group.

Price nods, "Pleasure meeting you all." He responds chipper than before when he had been hurling insults at Roach.

Mactavish scratches the back of his head, "Yeah, see Price-" he starts, intending to explain Price's presence on the base.

"Was kidnapped somewhere in Russia and your team was sent to retrieve him. When you initially entered to grab him, he mistaken Roach for a Russian and attacked him. Then, sometime during your escape, Roach was knocked out by some rocks. Oh and you know Price from you past, a friend perhaps?" I explain, cutting him off. My friends cross their arms, nodding along with my explanation.

Mactavish blinks, "Y-yeah…he was my former superior-how the hell did you now all that?" he asks, changing topics on a dime.

I smirk, taking a sip from my bowl of soup. "Elementary, my dear soap leprechaun! I simply pieced together the information given through the words and actions of you three. Honestly, it's not that hard. I mean, even Moli figured it out." I explain, laughing slightly.

Moli nods then does a double take at me, glaring at me. "Heeey!" she snaps, offended. She goes to slap me lightly.

I cringe in over dramatic fear. "Oh please no, I'm already injured enough!" I plead jokingly.

"Speaking of which, what the hell happened?" Mactavish questions, confusion present in his Scottish accent.

I gulp, scratching my arm nervously. "Well, Jasmine had an asthma attack so I ran to get it for her. Hey where Ghost?" I ask, quickly changing subjects hoping he doesn't notice.

Mactavish narrows his eyes, seeing through my failed attempt at changing the topic. "He's fine; he's looking for his authorization pass. Now what the hell happened?" she answers, rehashing his question.

I mentally wince, realizing Ghost is not going to find the pass. It weighs heavy in my pocket but I try my best to ignore it. I sigh, looking at my ankle. "Alright, you got me. I hurt my ankle running here." I admit shortly.

Mactavish crosses his arms. "Did you get checked by a medic?" he asks.

I fold my arms, staring at him emotionlessly. "No, why should I? Jasmine fixed my ankle." I said, defensively.

Mactavish walks over, "It's not that I doubt her abilities, it's just the medics should have a look. It could be sprained or even worst, broken." He states warningly.

I sigh, knowing he's right. The medics' findings would determine my next move, though I have the outcome already fixed. "Look, I know that's a damn good reason to get checked out. But…" I trail off, looking out the window at the rain. Glancing back at him, I shiver with the thought of being out in the rain again. "I'd rather stay dry, thank you very much!" I reply stubbornly.

Mactavish rolls his eyes, tossing his rain coat at me. "Then wear my rain jacket." He grunts.

I take it and look at him, seeing he's determined to take me to the medics whether I wanted to or not. Grumbling, I slide my arms into the over sized jacket. Crossing my arms, I shoot him a dirty look. "Now what, you going to help me limp over there?" I ask, an annoyed tone in my voice.

"No, I'm carrying you. It's faster." He replies shortly before easily picking me up bridal style. I let out a yelp, hating when people picked me up so easily.

He walks off and I look at my friend in a panic. "Don't leave me alone with this guy! He's going to kick my ass for all the Irish jokes I've made towards him!" I yell, laughing at my jokes.

Mactavish grins, looking down at me. "Hm, that's not a bad idea." He comments.

My face drops as I squirm uncomfortably in his hold. "Oh no, please don't bake me into an Irish pot pie! Noooo!" I jokingly over dramatize.

He rolls his eyes. "You never stop, do you?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

A sly smile crosses my lips as we exit the mess hall, "Never, it's just the way I am." I retort lightly.


	21. Alone in the world

Heavy rain greets us as Mactavish carries me out of the mess hall. I shiver as I pull his jacket he gave me close around me. I glance up at him, seeing how the rain has causes his Mohawk to droop. "Um, do you want your jacket back? You're looking a little miserable." I ask.

He glances down at me, and then laughs slightly. "No, no I'm fine. Besides, you need it more than I do." Mactavish reassures, continuing to the medic tent. The rest of the walk there is silence, apart from the occasional clap of thunder in the distance that makes me cringe. We arrive at the tent, entering it wordlessly. I shift in Mactavish's arms, feeling better to be out of the rain. Judging by how Mactavish sighs, I can tell he agrees with this thought. "Hey, we need a medic here." He calls as he sets me down gently on one of the medical cots.

A man walks out from a curtained off bed, a look of puzzlement set on his unshaven face. "Yes, what's the matter?" he asks, aspirated for reasons unknown to Mactavish and I.

Mactavish folds his arms, motioning with his head to me. "She hurt her ankle. We need you to take a look at it." He states plainly. The medic nods, walking over to me. He studies my ankle, observing how I wince when he touches it.

"Ah, I see. Well the good news is, it's not broken. It's a grade 1 sprain that should be healed in a few days." The medic responds optimistically, walking around the table. He bends over to look for some ace wrap, glancing at me darkly. "Good…otherwise Makarov would not be pleased." He hisses at me, out of Mactavish's ear shot. I look at him as shock crosses my face. My eyes narrow, glancing once at unsuspecting Mactavish back to the 'medic'. The medic shares my look at Mactavish, going back to searching for the bandage. "Get rid of 'em." He growls quietly.

Frowning, I can tell this guy knows-too much. But I fake a smile and look at Mactavish. "Hey I'm pretty much set here Mactavish, you can go. Tell everyone I'm OK. Especially Ghost. So they don't worry." I said, my eyes reflecting the opposite of my fake smile.

Mactavish raises an eyebrow at this, "You sure you're all right?" he asks.

A sly smile crosses my lips, "Mr. Soap Leprechaun, I'm so sure I'm sherbert." I reply jokingly. This reassurance draws a smile from Mactavish who nods and exits the tent. My smile falls as I stare at the 'medic' emotionlessly as he wraps my ankle. I sit up as he goes to move past me. But I grab him by the collar forcefully, stopping him in his tracks as my eyes burn into his. "Alright, who are you and what the fuck do you know about Makarov?" I hiss.

He smirks as he tears his collar from my grasp. "Simple, I work for him dear. He sent me to clear up some other loose ends." He replies, his Russian accent lacing his every word.

I blink, leaning back on my propped elbows as my auburn eyes stay locked with his. "How the hell did you hide your accent?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"I studied acting before joining up with Makarov." He explains shortly.

Glowering, I look at him will no emotion present on my pale face. "So, who are you?" I ask, pulling Mactavish's jacket close around me.

He straightens up, grinning widely. "The name's Langley. And you look cold." He said, changing the subject.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Well you'd be cold too if you had been running about in that fricking monsoon out there! Ugh, I wish I had my suitcase…" I mutter tensely.

He blinks, suddenly walking away from me wordlessly. My eyes follow him as he goes behind the curtained bed. "Heh, funny story…" he answers, walking out from behind the curtain with my suitcase.

My mouth falls agape, surprised at how he managed to get it here. "Dang…are you a genie or something?" I reply, be founded. I sit up, swinging my legs off the side of the table as he approaches me with the suitcase. On the way over, though, he brushes the curtain around the bed. It opens slightly, just enough for me to see the slumped feet of a man. Langley stops, looking from the curtain to me as a sheepish smile occupies his face. "That's the medic…isn't it?" I said slowly. Langley nods, staring at the ground embarrassed. He closes the curtain and walks over to me. I take my suitcase from him, still staring at him. "What did you do to him? Did you, kill him?" I ask hesitantly.

Langley sighs, "Yeah…I poisoned him. It was the only way." He answer quietly, slightly disturbed by his action.

I sigh, opening my suitcase silently. My hand traces the articles of clothing, feeling a pang of sadness as it reminds me of home. I remember how innocently this trip had started and how it ended-so heinously. Langley shifts, biting his lip. "It's going to be warm where we're going….j-just to let you know." He informs me quietly.

I glance at him once, nodding slightly. I turn back to my suitcase, going through it rigidly as memories from each piece of clothing cut me deeply. A weak smile appears on my face. "So we're going to hell…" I finally remark.

Langley laughs slightly, scratching the back of his head. "Y-yeah…Haha, good one." He replies nervously. An awkward silence falls upon us and Langley coughs. "Well I can tell you want to be alone….just place the suitcase back in the curtained off area. I'll make sure it gets to Russia." He informs me before disappearing out the back of the tent.

I stare after him, feeling abruptly alone. Well, expect for the dead guy but that just makes it all the lonelier. My hands finally find what I'm looking for: a pair of camo shorts and a black tank top. I slip my soaked pants off, sliding on the shorts easily. Taking Mactavish's jacket off, I unzip my sweatshirt and take off my lacy black tank top. The dry black tank top feels a hell of a lot better to be wearing as I slip it on over my head. I replace Mactavish's jacket back on as the cold air hits me. The wet clothing gets placed in the suitcase and I push it under the curtained off area of the bed. My eyes stay trained on the ground, unblinkingly as a million memories surge my mind. I place my legs back on the table, resting my ankle down gently. Lying back on my propped elbows, my eyes remain glued to the floor soullessly. I'm so stuck walking down memory lane that I don't notice the flap of the tent open and someone enter. I blink out of my daze, glancing over. My heart freezes as my breath gets caught in my throat, my eyes set on Ghost. We share a look till the feeling of shame overcomes me and I have to look away.

He walks up, concern playing in his jaded green eyes. "Hey, Mactavish told me what happened! Are you…" he said, stopping suddenly.

I look over at him, blinking. "What?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

Ghost raises an eyebrow, "Why are you wearing Mactavish's Jacket?" he asks, suspiciously.

I scratch the back of my head as I tuck my legs close to me. "Well, I kinda got wet." I answer innocently.

He blinks, silence engulfing the both of us. A feeling of being on different terms emerging. "So…you and….Mactavish…?" Ghost said slowly, trying to make sense of this.

My mouth falls open, "What? No, HELL no! I mean I was wet because of the rain! Not 'cause of what your thinking, ya freak!" I exclaim, slightly aggravated it take it that way.

He gives an audible sigh of relief. "Well that's good to know…" he mumbles.

I turn to him, wanting so badly to fix this rift that's beginning to form. But I stop myself, knowing it's best to just let it drift. My consistence chastises me for leading him on. I sigh, slowly lowering myself from the table onto my feet. Ghost makes a move to help me but I place a hand up to stop him. "No, I'm fine. I-I got to do this by myself." I murmur.

I start forward, wincing at the pain in my ankle. Ghost is there by my side in an instance. "Now do you need help?" he asks humorously.

I sigh, looking away in disgrace as I nod. He picks me up bridal style, holding me tight. My head rests against his chest in submission, my eyes haft closed. Without a word, he starts out into the night with me. The rain has dissipated, giving way to a beautiful night sky. The stars gleam as the haft moon illuminates the way. I look up at Ghost, the night giving his mask a sort of dark appearance. Sighing, I nuzzle him under the chin softly. My eyes close as I listen to the sound of his heart beat. In my heart I know this is love. I only wish we had more time and that this whole situation with Makarov hadn't played out this way. My eyes open, tears threatening to spill. I blink them back, trying to remind myself that crying won't fix things. Deep down, I know in the end this isn't about me or my happiness. This is about Shepard's betrayal and orchestrating the reveal carefully. _Guess I should be used to not having happiness…I've gone so long without, what's a few years?_

We arrive at my tent and enter quietly. My friends haven't returned from the mess hall, the tent empty of their cheerful moods. Ghost sets me down on a bed gently. We share a silent look, as Ghost scratches the back of his neck. "I should go-" he starts, turning to leave.

But I grab his hand, staring at the ground dismally. He stops and looks at me. I look up at him, tears appearing in my eyes. "Don't leave me alone." I whisper as a tear slips down my cheek. The fear of being left alone has haunted me ever since the incident with the ghost of Bob in the shower room. I shiver, just remembering how his red eyes burned into me.

Ghost blinks, nodding in understanding as he sits on the edge of my bed. He brushes a tear from my face, his hand tracing my face. "I won't dream of doing that." He whispers. I try to swallow the lump of sadness in my throat but I can't, the tears spilling down my face.

_H-He cares…God dammit why did it have to be this way? Oh Ghost…I-I'm so sorry. _I can't help myself, I wrap my arms around his neck as I breakdown into tears. He holds me tight, as I continue to cry. Pulling away, I look up at him. Tears drip from my eyes. "Ghost, I love you." I said, bursting out into uncontrollable tears as I feel my heart slowly begin to tear itself in two.

A smirk crease forms in his mask as he tilts my head up to him. "Why are you crying if you love me?" he ask, slightly confused at my emotion fusion.

I smile slightly, laughing. "I-I don't know…" I reply, tears tracing my cheeks. I wanted so badly to say I was sorry, to just tell him everything. But I can't and inside, I feel my heart twist painfully at this fact.

He rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. "What ever's on your mind, you can tell me." He whispers, his British accent soothing me.

I look up at him and shake my head. "I-I'm tired Ghost…" I mutter seriously.

He stares back, nodding slightly. "I understand, I'll leave you be." He said. Before he can move, I slip his mask up slightly just so his lips are shown. My lips meet his as we share a long kiss. When it's over, I pull away and lay back.

Ghost smiles as he pulls his mask back down. "Don't cry too much…your way too beautiful to be sad, love." He purrs before walking out and leaving me alone.

The tears continue to fall, though. I bite my lip as I rest my forearm against my eyes. "Damn…GOD DAMMIT! W-Why me…" I mumble to myself. A part of Moving Mountains by Usher comes to mind. _'Just leave me be, just leave me. Why just you just leave me.'_ _Ghost, why couldn't you just have leave me be? Jasmine, you all, why couldn't __you__ just have leave me be?_

I sigh, curling myself into a ball. I just lay there, my mind wondering how life would have been if none of this had happened…if I hadn't existed. _Yeah, What a wonderful life,_ I think sarcastically, _what a fucking joke._

* * *

Author's note: Sorry again for not updating in a while. I was hit with the bad case of Writer's block. I'm going to warn you guys right now, it's going to take a little bit for me to get the next chapter up. Why? It's because I have to finish a graduation slideshow for my brother by Saturday the 10th of July. It's come down to the wire now and I've decided to suspend all other activities so I can focus on finishing the slideshow. But hey, you never know, I may add a chapter. We'll just have to see. Hope you enjoyed this chapter of _Russian Roulette_ and please take the time to review!


	22. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Author's Note: Well I felt this needed to be addressed now instead of when I upload the next chapter. This is a response to Jacob ()'s review. First off, thanks for the review it's always nice to read people's positive remarks. OK, second off, Jacob brought up that my character from _A __Fine Line_ Erin Nirent was used in another story by the name of _Modern Warfare 2: The Novelization._ I just want to let you know that I've been aware of this fact :). I actually read it when it first came out and was quite impressed at how he added my character into it. It's a damn good story and you guys should check it out! (Why yes, I am advertising now! xD Hey, how 'bout that sham wow…) Yeah, I just needed to clear that up.

Well, the next chapter is coming along quite nicely even in my mad rush to finish my brother's slide show. So maybe it'll be up sooner. I guess that's all the news to report, it's pretty quiet here on the midwestern front. Have a happy and safe 4th of July! Oh and please kiddies, don't blow your faces off-leave THAT to the professionals!

~Your Fellow Writer,

Erin Peepsta


	23. Forget me not

Night dwindles into morning as I lie in my cot, caught in a trance of old memories. Sometime during the night, my friends had shuffled in tirelessly. They paid me no mind, believing me to be asleep and did so themselves. But now, morning greets me as my friends stiff awake. They chat lively with one another, thinking I am still fast asleep. But my eyes are open, staring unblinkingly at the floor. My friends' chatter is inaudible, distant to my ears. I can't help but feel this is for the best, because I couldn't face them-especially today.

Morning broke into day and my friends leave to explore the camp. Jasmine tries to get me to go along but I remind her testily about my 'hurt' ankle. She offers to stay back with me but I tell her to go ahead. She leaves with the rest of my friends and I'm alone. Slowly I sit up and hug my knees to my chest. It's in this moment of weakness Bob decides to pay me a visit.

He grins at me darkly, leaning against one of the supporting posts for the tent. "It's not to late, you can turn back." He teases in a sing-song like voice.

I look up at him, frowning. "What are you, my twisted conscious?" I growl, feeling a little weird to be talking to a ghost.

He laughs, closing his eyes. "Tch, I guess you could say that…" he laughs darkly, opening his eyes to reveal the blood red eyes he now dawns in the after life.

I sigh, looking away. "It's too late for the other side. I'm caught in a chase…25 to life, Bob." I whisper, looking away dejectedly.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "You quote a lot of songs, don't you bitch?" he growls. He straightens up, looking at me seriously. "If you truly believe that…then there's no reason for me to stay here and try to change your mind. But know this: in three months you'll be dead. Don't say I didn't warn you bitch." He snipes forebodingly. He turns and walks through the wall of the tent, disappearing into a flash of light.

I frown, glaring after him. "I'm already dead." I grumble harshly under my breath.

Day sits on the verge of night, the clock hands pointing to 8:30 PM. I know it's time to get down to business. Grabbing my Ak-47 from under my bed, I place the strap over my shoulder. I go under the mattress and pull out the files requested by Makarov. The empty pistol still sits behind my belt. That's when an idea strikes me. The pain in my ankle throbs lightly as I go and pick up the ammo from my friends' guns. I even take the bullets from their pistols and place them in my own. Once the deed is done, I sigh and hug the files close to me. I place them in an inside pocket on Mactavish's jacket. Closing my eyes, I know it's a good time to go. My friends are around to question me.

But, almost on que, they enter. I look over emotionlessly, knowing I don't have enough time to explain all this. Without forewarning, I hug each of them. When I come to Jasmine, I whisper, "Don't forget the plan…I'm sorry I can't be around to help you." I run out, ignoring their reputation of the same question: 'What are you doing?'

I take the path less traveled to the A/C building, running behind the tents like a ninja dashes across bubble wrap without popping a bubble. Easily I slip in to the building and I use stealth to sneak around till I find the stairs to the roof. Running up the stairs, I forget about stealth and just burst out onto the roof. My eyes scan the flat surface, no person present. I sigh, walking over to the ledge where I feel a slight de ja vu moment. For a second I can't place where I've seen it but it hits me abruptly as I remember the dream I had. I scrunch my face up in pained sadness, the dream over whelming me as I remember how Ghost fate had ended. _N-no...we make our own luck! Fate isn't written in stone, w-we can change it. Can we?_ When the pain has subsided in my head, I gaze with little emotion over the camp.

The sun is just beginning to set, making the sky bleed crimson. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I check it out as a new text from my 'favorite' Russian Makarov sits in my inbox. _ETA 15 min. When you jump, be careful not to jump to far or too short ~M._ I gulp, placing my phone back in my pocket. Sighing, I calm my nerves as I place my foot on the ledge. I glance over the edge, seeing how far the drop is and I gulp in fear. _Right…I'll make sure not to screw that up. _I stand up on the ledge, quickly finding my balance. When I have, I appreciate the feeling of being on top of the world. Hell, ABOVE the world! A wide smile crosses my face as I soak up this feeling.

I hear the sound of the door burst open to the roof. Glancing over my shoulder, I turn carefully around on the ledge to face the intruders. Gritting my teeth, cursing my foul luck as my group of friends; Mactavish, Ghost and Shepard appear. No doubt my friends alerted them to my odd behavior. Moli steps forward, tears running down her face from her blue eyes. "Erin, please don't do this! W-we can talk about this!" she cries. I blink, wondering what they're going on about. Then I glance over at Jasmine and glare at her, thinking she has revealed to them my plans.

Mactavish folds his arms, staring at me in content. "Come on kid, just back away from the edge…nice and slow." He states. Its then it all clicks-they believe I've gone suicidal. Though, I can't really blame them since I've been acting like I was.

Shepard smirks, enjoying this show I'm putting on. "Hey, just do it. Go head." He said as he tried hiding his smile.

Ghost turns to him, obviously shocked his superior would say such a thing. "Sir, I really don't think that's helping the situation!" he snaps, shaking slightly from anger from what I can see.

Shepard shrugs. "I was only trying reverse phycology. It's suppose to work." He defends, frowning seriously.

I roll my eyes, "Oh for the love of-I'm not suicidal!" I exclaim, taking up my AK. A smug smile sits on my face as my dark eyes scan the group. "I'm changing sides." I reveal smoothly. Everyone falls silent, staring at me in shocked confusion. I scoff, laughing at how I had silenced them so easily. My smile drops into a hard frown as I shake my head slightly. "You all thought we could be decent people in an indecent time! No…Makarov showed me how wrong that is." I snipe, loudly, my voice echoing across the roof top.

Mactavish narrows his eyes darkly at me. "You've been working for Makarov…lying to us all, haven't you?" he growls in his Scottish accent.

I smirk, shrugging off his jacket. "Well, well! Someone figured it out! Here's your prize, you can have your jacket back." I retort playfully. After taking the files out from the inside pocket, I toss the jacket at him. I wave the files at Shepard, my grin widening. "Missing something Shepard?" I ask, toying with his mind.

He blinks before resetting his stone cold look. "Not that I'm aware of. No unauthorized presences were recorded in the file room." He drawls.

"Did you cross examine to see if all the authorized people had been on the base? Or did you simple look over it…like you do everything else." I ask lightly. Slowly, I flip out Ghost's authorization pass and thrust it in his direction. "Because if you had, you'd had notice Ghost was on a mission the time his authorization pass was used to access the file room." I inform Shepard sharply. I watch as Ghost slowly picks up the card unblinkingly. He looks at me and I can see the heart break in his eyes. I look away slowly, too hurt to look him in the eyes.

Jasmine steps forward, a soft look of concern on her face and in her blue eyes. "Erin, it's OK. See, we decided to act in Russia-to not be victims. We 7, we band of friends. We experienced everything together. All the pain and lost was our lost." She said, trying to reason with me.

I shake my head, glaring at her intently. "Then why does it feel like I'm the one who lost everything?" I shot back, grasping the Ak tightly in my hands as I keep the files tucked under my arm.

Kayla blinks, frowning sadly as tears peppered her brown eyes. "It wasn't…" she said quietly, as a tear rolled down her face.

I grit my teeth in frustration, "Makarov chose me!" I shout, glaring at the group.

Jasmine shakes her head, tears brimming her eyes. "Because you were the best of us. He wanted to prove that even someone as good as you could fall!" she answers back shakily as she fights back the tears.

I glare at the ground, having my own battle with my tears. "And he was right." I mutter dryly. I placed my fate in the hands of that devil and he molded it to his liking. This change of sides, I know, will end badly for me. But I know one thing is for certain: Shepard's persecution will be born from this.

Shepard grips his hands into fist, glowering darkly at me. "Erin, you have the gun. Why not point it at the ones responsible?" he growls in question.

I look up, my eyes locked with his icy stare. A smug smile sits on my face. "You'd like me to do that, won't you?" I ask humorously, pointing my AK at him from my hip.

Ghost looks at me, his green eyes set on me. "Why are you doing this Erin?" he asks, still trying to come to terms with all this.

I roll my eyes, looking at him out the corner of my eyes irate. "I do believe I've already gone over this-oh wait, sorry that was with Shepard. Well, I guess I'll give you the edited version. The reason I'm doing this is to stop an evil man." I explain, snarling the last part as I glare at Shepard accusingly.

Chris blinks, raising an eyebrow. Then out of no where, he grins. "So you're going to be a spy against Makarov?" he asks optimistically.

My eyes shift over to him, breaking from the glaring contest I had with Shepard. "No, I'm sorry guys but I'm fully stepping over to Makarov's side of the board. The evil man of which I speak of…I can not reveal for he is apart of an active investigation. But don't worry, you'll all know soon enough." I reveal, showing my cards cautiously. _Only a few more minutes left… _

I lower my AK slightly, glancing over my shoulder at the setting sun. _What a beautiful sun set…it may represent my previous life as it disappears beyond the horizon of no turning back, _I thought dully. "Erin, Please! It doesn't have to be this way." Pleads the familiar British voice of Ghost.

I look at him, sighing sadly. "Ghost, this is the only way." I mutter quietly.

Ghost shakes his head, stepping forward. "No, it not-" he starts.

But I snap my AK up, aiming at him. He stops abruptly. "Step back Ghost, or I WILL shoot you." I growl through clenched teeth.

He raises his hands up in a rigid surrender, a smile forming a crease in his mask. "You wouldn't." he taunts.

My eyes narrow as I grip my Ak tightly. "I WOULD!" I snipe sharply. My anger falls slightly, "I've sacrificed, lost…So much just for this…my friends, their trust, my safety, my happiness but most importantly-my heart." I reply dejectedly, "I've lost it all..."

"Come on Erin-" Ghost starts to reassure me as he takes yet another step.

But I snap my AK up, aiming at him specifically. Tears start to form in my eyes as my heart ears into two with this predicament. "Just…forget me Ghost. I-I'm sorry I fell for you…it was a mistake!" I cry, heart ache hitting me as I know I'm incapable of pulling the trigger on him. My hands shake slightly as I blink back the oncoming tears in my eyes. I end up lowering my gun, wiping the tears from my eyes. "I-it wasn't supposed to be this way…" I mutter dryly.

Ghost shakes his head, "Erin, it doesn't matter if what was supposed to happen didn't happen. All that matters is that you ended up right where you're meant to be." Ghost reasons philosophically.

I sigh, glancing over the edge to the ground. A sad smile twitches the corners of my lips as I face my friends. "Goodnight…goodnight! Parting, my dear friends, is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be marrow." I recite, as my dream made sense to a point. With that, I step back and disappear over the edge. But I reappear to them, gripping onto a rope ladder connected to a helicopter. I blow them a kiss before the heli waves off. Bullets hit the heli un-damaging like. Glancing over, I see Shepard refuses to let my epic exit go so easy. I quickly scurry up into the heli, taking a seat next to a guy. Breathing a sigh of relief, I calm down.

The guy looks over, smirking from under his haft face balaclava. "Happy to have reached the right destination intact, my friend?" he chuckles in a heavy Russian accent.

I can only nod, still shaking from the fall. My eyes fall upon his face and I suddenly realize I've seen him before. A weak smile crosses my lips. "Yeah, 'cause you didn't give me directions." I giggle lightly, feeling my nerves calm.

He grins as he pulls his balaclava down. "Heh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that!" he apologizes.

The pilot is another familiar face-Langley. He glance at us through the rearview mirror, fidgeting. "I think we're fare enough away, Ivan. Let's hit the alarm clock and go." He said seriously; though panic is reflect slightly in his blue eyes.

Ivan, the terrible direction giver, pulls out some sort of detonator. He's about to press it but pauses when he notices my nervous eyes set on him. He smiles confidently. "Hey, how 'bout you blow the charges? It's really fun." He chimes, holding the detonator out to me.

My eyes travel from the detonator to him slowly, a look of horror on my face. "W-will my friends…be caught in the blast?" I ask quietly.

He scoffs, waving me off. "No chance, the charges aren't placed where they are now. So, are you going to do it or what?" he asks impatiently.

Narrowing my eyes, I smile slyly at him. I easily swipe the detonator from him in a flash. "Course I'll do it!" I growl, clicking the button on the detonator. Explosions erupt across the base, leaving small mushroom clouds of smoke and heat everywhere. I smirk as I carefully leaned out the heli to get a better look. Leaning back, I glance over at Ivan as I toss the detonator at him. "Well, now…that sure was energizing!" I comment happily.

Ivan laughs, catching the detonator. He pats me on the back violently, causing me to wince slightly and groan quietly. I glare at him out of the corner of my eyes. "Hahaha! I like this one! She's more versed in this shit than you novichok!" Booms Ivan, oblivious to the glare I'm giving him. Langley glances at him through the rearview mirror darkly, muttering something under his breath in Russian towards Ivan. Ivan ignores this, instead choosing a more quiet activity of staring out the window. Which of course leads to a normally 'quiet' activity, sleeping. But Ivan, as I've learned, isn't the quiet type as he snores so loudly I swear it makes the whole helicopter shake.

Switching seats, I sit closer to the cockpit. "So, uh, Langley? What did he say, exactly?" I question, Russian not being a language option on most high school course selection.

Langley sighs irate, gripping the controls so tightly his knuckles turn white. "It means newbie." He grumbles, his eyes glaring forward.

I raise an eyebrow, "And you're offended because you're not a newbie?" I ask, not understanding why he's so ticked off about this.

He looks away, his gaze softening. "No…I am. I-it's just, I hate being the newbie! You have no idea how all the veterans treat newbies! Ugh, it's just horrible…it makes you feel like you just don't belong…" he mutters.

I blink, frowning sadly. "I'm sorry Langley. Look, I'm sure they're just being tough on you so you don't get all soft. They care, I'm sure. It's just…military guys have weird ways of showing this. Don't worry; the time will come when you understand this and you can torture the next newbie like they did to you!" I said, looking on the bright side as I flash him a friendly smile.

He looks at me through the mirror, sporting a haft smile towards me. "Heh thanks. That means a lot to me." He replies.

I nod, turning away as I rest my head against the wall. My arms grip the folder tightly; grateful I hadn't lost any papers in the free fall from the roof. My eyes glance out the open door of the heli, watching as the new moon rose in the starry sky over the dark ocean horizon. My eye lids slowly shut, as I fell into a light sleep. _The new moon, it signals the start of the moon's lunar cycle. And so my life changes with it, for better-or for worst. Hopefully not worst, because that'd suck._

Author's note: Well hope you enjoyed this chapter. Yes another long chapter (sorry). But it was full of quotable quotes! Haha, can you find them? (It's from one movie. A VERY awesome quoteable movie.) Anyway, thanks to all you who have reviewed so far! I really appreciate all your reviews.(though I hate flames. honestly, nobody needs your negative comments. People work hard on writting their stories. They don't need you dissing them. Thank you) :)

Please rate and review


	24. Memories

About 2 hours before we arrive in Russia, Ivan awakes. For some odd reason, he won't stop telling knock-knock jokes. I can tell by the way Langley shakes his head and shoots daggers with his eyes through the rearview mirror that he wanted to knock Ivan up side the head.

"Hey, have you heard this one? So, does anyone know who this lady is? I've never met her. Has she been kidnapped? Anyone with information regarding one Ms. Ann Y Who, please contact police immediately!" Ivan said before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

I blink, looking over at Ivan questionably. "Miss Ann Y who-ooh! I get it." I giggle, laughing slightly. I van nods through his laugher. I turn to Langley, a frown plastered on my face as my eyes plead with his. "For God sakes, please tell me we're almost there!" I hiss pleadingly as I'm at the breaking point of hearing Ivan talk.

He shines me a haft smile, "Well, now you know how I feel." He answers back in a hushed tone. His eyes glance over his instruments then looks up sheepishly. "Just another hour." He reveals hesitantly. I groan, turning back to face another hour of Ivan's stand-up.

Finally, after a near brush with the 'chicken crossed the road' joke, we land in Russia. I step out, shielding my eyes from the sun as Ivan and Langley exit the helicopter after me. Ivan is persistently badgering Langley with some new found newbie jokes. I roll my eyes, knowing Langley is about to snap-"WILL YOU SHUT UP!" cries Langley, stopping Ivan in mid sentence. I stop, looking back at them in interest.

Ivan still shines a goofy grin through his after shave as he raises his hands in a joking surrender. "Hey I'm just trying to lighten the mood-" Ivan said off handily.

Langley points at him accusingly, jabbing the air violently with this finger. "No, you're not! You've pulled those same jokes on me hundreds of times and frankly I'm sick of them! I may be a newbie but that doesn't make me less of a teammate!" snaps Langley as he crosses his arms and looks away.

Ivan blinks, dropping his grin and hands suddenly. He raises an eyebrow in question. "Wait…you think that? You're an important aspect to the team, kid." Ivan said quietly, placing a hand on Langley's shoulder.

Langley glances at him once before shrugging off his hand. I roll my eyes, feeling a 'Dr. Phil' moment coming on. Which of course I have to start otherwise this fight will just continue to downward spiral. "Hey, look Ivan. From what I've heard, it's you who has been the one to pull the most cracks towards Langley. So, how come? Like, why is that?" I inquire, placing my hands on my hips as I look at him seriously.

Ivan looks over and shrugs. "I don't know. Because he's-" he mumbles, looking at the ground as he tries to find the word.

I point at him warningly, "Careful, think before you say what's next." I cut in sharply.

He sighs, scratching his arm. "Because he's like a younger brother to me." He said, looking over at Langley and cracking a wide grin, "And older siblings always tease the crap out of their younger siblings!" Ivan grabs Langley and starts giving him a noogie. Langley struggles to get away from attack but isn't successful.

I shake my head and we start walking again, Ivan releasing Langley promptly. My smile slips from my face as I remember what Ivan said about older siblings. It makes me think of my older sister and how she used to do the same thing to me. That was, of course, before dad died. She didn't take it well.

* * *

_September 15__th__, 2011_

_Milwaukee, WI_

_One Month since the blast_

_Everything has fallen apart. I swear, when dad died we all lost apart of ourselves. We being me, Mom and Becky. Mom became a basket case and Becky snuck out all the time. I decided to follow her this time, like little sister did. She came to this run down house where loud music was playing and people were partying. I had a bad feeling about this place, like something wasn't right. "If you're gonna be a baby, then you can just go home!" Becky snapped at me. Without another word, she entered the house. Confused and lost, I decided the only reasonable thing to do was to sit and wait. And so I waited. Eventually I fell asleep. When the sun peeked over the horizon, I groaned awake. No Becky. I gulp, fear hitting me as I fear she's left without me. I don't know and I know the only way to prove this. So, swallowing my fear, I enter the house. Red cups and other garbage littered the floor as I shuffle through it. I come to a room and enter it hesitantly. What I see startles me and still haunts me today. Becky lays on the floor, her green eyes shut and her long blonde hair cradling her haft naked body. I can't help myself, I scream. A man who was asleep on the couch jolts awake, rolling off the couch. _

_He groans irritated, "What the fuck kid?" he grumbles, rubbing his head._

_I shakily point to my sister, fearing she is dead. "M-my sister…is she…is she-" I stutter, unable to bring myself to saying the word 'dead'. He stumbles over, kneeling down by Becky._

_"Hey…hey, Becky. You OK? Come on, time to wake up." He hisses, slapping her face lightly in hopes of waking her. He starts to grow in hysteria, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, repeatedly telling her to wake up. But her head falls back limply and tears start to form in my eyes. He sets her down, quickly searching his pockets for his cell phone._

_I fall to my knees by her as I grip her arm. "Becky, please! You can't be dead!" I cry as I grip her arm tightly. Suddenly she grabs my wrist sharply and I give a small cry of surprise. _

_She rolls her head over to me, smiling weakly. "I-I'm a zombie! Rawr!" she mutters then laughs uncontrollably as if she was drunk. Despite the man's constant suggestion of going to the hospital, Becky declines saying she's fine. But I know she's not. _

_The next day, mom was screaming at Becky for sneaking out-and letting me come along. Mom was threatening to put Becky in rehab, to fix her problem. Becky defended herself, "I DON'T have a problem! My only PROBLEM is YOU!" Becky screams. _

_Mom shakes her head as they continue bickering, their insults becoming sharper with every lash of it. Finally, the last straw for Becky came with my mother's harsh remark. "YOUR FATHER WOULD BE SO DISAPPOINTED! HE EXPECTED SO MUCH MORE FROM YOU, AND YOU LET HIM DOWN!" she spat so sharply it even hurt me who was listening from around the corner. The remark hit a nerve in Becky as she became very silent. _

_Becky just stared at mom for what seemed like an eternity as tears came to her eyes. She shakes her head and stalks out of the room. "F-fuck you mom, just fuck you. I am done…I am SO done with all your fucking 'dad-would-have' speeches. Just shut the hell up bitch, he's G-O-N-E!" she cries, running to her room. A few minutes later, Becky returns with a suitcase pack and no remorse left in her eyes. I had entered the living room, leaning against the wall. When I see her with the suitcase, I know she's serious about this. But it doesn't stop the tears from falling. Becky looks at mom, shaking her head slowly. "I can't take this…I just CAN'T. I'm leaving and I'm NOT coming back! Bye mother…Goodbye Erin." She snipes through the hot tears the run down her face. She walks past me and out the door without another word. I remember that clearly, knowing that I'd never see her again. _

* * *

I shake myself out of my memory, the threat of tears very high. But I blink them away as I realize we've come upon a house made out of timber, sitting on a small rock face. A slanted driveway leads up to the estate. Ivan has been talking of how nice this estate is compared to another. I think he said that one was around the Caucus mountain range; I don't know I was caught up in my memories. A man exits the house, meeting us haft way on the driveway. A smug smile crosses my lips as I recognize the familiar face of Makarov as he approaches. He's dressed in a light orange dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, accompanied by a loose black tie that is loosely knotted under the collar. Smoke is omitted by the cigar on his lips as his green and blue eyes focus on me. He mirrors my smug smiles. "Erin…good to see you." He mutters with little emotion as he stretches his hand out to shake.

I smirk as I shake his hand sternly, "Wish I could say the same to you." I reply sarcastically.

He laughs slightly at this joke, glancing at the other two with me once before returning his gaze to me. "I see you've met Ivan and Langley." He comments off-handily. I nod, feeling there's nothing more to add to this comment.

A pause falls upon us and I feel the files poke me under my arm. "Oh, yeah…the file." I said, taking the file and handing them to Makarov delicately, "I almost forgot."

Makarov nods, taking them from me. Wordlessly, he turns and starts up the driveway to the house. I follow him silently with Langley and Ivan trailing quietly behind. My eyes glance back at them as the wheels begin to turn in my head. I gaze back at Makarov. "Why." I ask stopping and placing my hands on my hips.

Makarov pauses, looking over at me bemused. "Why, what?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in question.

I frown, pointing back at Ivan and Langley with my thumb. "Your men easily infiltrated the base. Why did you go to all the trouble of sending me through all this?" I ask, throwing my hands up in a frustrated shrug.

Makarov stares at me blankly, as silence falls upon us. "What I told you back in Moscow, when we first met." He replies blankly as if I had asked what 1 plus 1 was. He turns, continuing to walk as he opened the file.

I start after him, my hands gripped into fists as I'm tired of his word games. "Will you for once in your life NOT speak in riddles? What the hell do you mean?" I ask testily, as I catch up with him.

He stops abruptly, turning haft way to face me. His green and blue eyes glare at me darkly. "What I said to you at the beginning-do I honestly have to SPELL it out for you?" he snipes, trying to control his anger. I shrink back, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. I don't answer him, choosing to nod my head shamefully. He rolls his eyes, turning swiftly and continuing to walk. "All of what you've been through was to prove one thing, that all people are the same. That they'll betray the ones they love the most in order to get what they want the most." He explains flatly, his eyes scanning the files in his hands.

I blink before I look at him skeptically. "And what is it that I 'want' the most?" I inquire dryly as I cross my arms.

"To kill Shepard. After all, he's the reason your father's dead." He answers sharply. I open my mouth to speak but Makarov cuts me off. "'The bastard who is behind the death of my father and thousands more deserves to die. Hell, I'll be glad to do it myself!' Sound familiar?" Makarov asks smartly, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

My mouth falls open as I stare at him in shock. "I-I wrote that on my blog. How the hell did you find it?" I gasp, specifically remembering I had set it to private so only my friends could see.

Makarov smirks, returning his gaze to the file. "Not every private setting is as secure as you think." He replies shortly.

I shake my head in disbelief. "Why me? I'm not the only person who lost someone." I question slowly.

"You were the luck of the draw Simple as that." He reveals plainly as we stand only feet from the house now.

My eyes travel to his. "Leaving someone's life up to chance, eh?" I mutter dryly.

He smirks at my comment, "That's how it started…it was originally supposed to be your sister…" he states shortly. My smile drops as I recant the day she left. If his men couldn't locate her, then she's most likely gone-forever. I look over at him with content. He notices my look and glances away. "You originally were just a back-up plan." He divulges.

I blink, shaking my sister from my memory. "A back-up plan for what?" I ask slowly, fearing the answer.

Makarov stops walking and turns to me slowly. "When Shepard hired me to do the airport job, I knew I needed some sort of job security in case thing's went south." He explains, "I picked you because you were the youngest advocate who showed such promise-and hate. You were impressionable, easy to maneuver the way I wanted you to. Then dispose of you properly. That…was the original plan."

Cautiously I walk up to him. "So then, w-what's changed?" I ask. His look just said it all as I take a step back. "You were going to kill me, weren't you?" I mumble quietly. He looks at me once before starting towards the house. I follow him apprehensively. "What now, then?" I ask.

He stops with his back to me. Slowly he looks up from the file. "There's only one thing to do." He remarks deceivingly. He turns swiftly around to face me. I pull out my hand gun, ready to defend my self.

But instead of a gun, an empty hand is extended to me. My eyes dart from it to Makarov's face. "W-what?" I hiss, honestly believing he'd pull a gun on me.

He smiles a smug smile at me. "Welcome to the team. What, did you honestly think I was going to kill you?" he laughs.

Slowly, I place my hand gun back behind my belt. I hesitantly shake his hand as I look up at him. "Well, it won't have been the first time you've tried." I answer back humorously.

He laughs slightly, "Fair enough." He replies as he leads me into the house.

* * *

Author's note: Hello people! I'm back. :D Sorry to have kept you all waiting, I was busy…with stuff. Yeah. Haha, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Also, the 'Ann Y Who' joke was suggested by an anonymous review named Jacob. Thanks Jacob! Oh and in reply to eP's review, yes. That chapter literally ripped the Dark Knight word for word. Congrats for guessing right on what movie I was ripping off. :D

Please rate and review


	25. Ninja Jerk Russian

Though I'm now 'officially' working with Makarov, I keep my eyes trained on him as we enter the house. I'm so concentrated on him that I almost miss the swift movement to my right. I jump, ready to grab my hand gun in defense. A tall, muscular man raises an eyebrow at my reaction to his movement but brushes it off-keeping an eye on me. Makarov looks back at me, slightly amused. "My, my, you sure seem to be on edge. Just relax, your no use to me dead." He mutters plainly as he continues into the open area. I share a dark look with the ninja Russian before I follow after Makarov. A short Russian greets Makarov nervously in Russian, his light green eyes glancing at me once. Makarov hands the man the file, clasping a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "We've got work to do, Anatoly. Introductions will have to wait." Makarov informs the brown-reddish haired man now known as Anatoly. He nods, spreading the file contents across the plastic folding table. I quietly retreat to the kitchen where Ivan and Langley reside. Ivan rummages through the refrigerator loudly.

I shake my head in shame as a small smile crosses my lips. "Are you always this loud, Ivan?" I ask as he pulled out of the fridge with three beers in hand.

He grins proudly, handing a bottle to Langley and another to me non-chalet. "Pretty much, it's in my nature." He replies optimistically, unscrewing the cap from his beer and taking a sip. I blink, glancing at the bottle of beer in my hands. My nose wrinkles up in disgust as I place it on the counter, pushing it away from me in repulsion. Ivan raises an eyebrow at my action. "What, you don't drink?" he asks, assuming most teens my age would jump at the opportunity for free booze.

Crossing my arms, I shake my head. "I'm only 17. So no, I don't drink." I state firmly, remembering promising my sis I won't start down that path.

Langley and Ivan share a look before nodding in understanding. Langley lightly slapped Ivan on the back of the head. "Idiot, of course she wouldn't drink." He grumbles.

Ivan rubs the back of his head. "Well So-rry!" he mutters dryly. I roll my eyes, wondering how Makarov can put up with these two with their constant fights.

I feel a presence standing behind me. In a flash, the beer I rejected is swiped from the counter. I glance over my shoulder and see the ninja Russian is the culprit. We lock eyes, his hollow blue eyes glaring into my dark auburn eyes. He scoffs as he takes a sip from the beer, slightly annoyed by my presence. "What are you looking at, American?" he growls at me sharply.

Judging by his question I tell he's not exactly the 'warm and fuzzy' type of welcomer. Usually, I would throw some joke back at a comment like his. But I'm drawing a blank, not wanting to start something. He rolls his eyes, muttering something in Russian under his breath foully.

I narrow my eyes at him, placing my hands on my hips. "Excuse me, what did you just say?" I ask, glowering in anger. Sure this guy is two times my size and looks like he could be a substitute in a Chuck Norris joke, but no way am I going to let him talk shit about me.

He looks down at me, smiling darkly. "I said 'cyka'…it means bitch." He replies slightly, laughing as he turns to walk away.

I ball my hands in fists as my teeth clench. Of all the nasty, cruel names you could possibly call me, bitch is my LEAST favorite. _Oh, I am SO going to-_

"I wouldn't if I were you, Erin. Viktor isn't the type to attack head on…" Makarov warns bluntly, breaking into my thoughts as he continued analyzing the papers from the file.

My anger dissolves as I look over at him in shocked confusion. _Did he just-read my thoughts? _ Shaking my head of this though, I glare at Viktor (the once nameless, ninja jerk Russian) as he disappears down the hall. I shrug, deciding to follow Makarov's tidbit of advice. But I know this fight isn't over.

Author's Note: OK, let me be the first to say this: I am SO sorry for not updating in a while. I had a horrible case of writers block. Well despite this setback, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This is a short chapter because the next chapter is going to be pretty long.

Please rate and review.


	26. Three moves ahead

Chatting with Langley and Ivan in the kitchen, boredom consumes us. Which I learn quickly, never is good with someone like Ivan. Because he starts stacking cups-glass cups. Langley argues with him while positioning himself to try and catch the cups. Ivan blows him off, continuing to tempt faith as he stacks the cups dangerously. I step back, my eyes staring in shock. "Ivan, you idiot, stop this!" I hiss as I shoot him a discouraging look.

He shakes his head, sporting his goofy trademark grin. "Oh, there's no need to worry! I am a wicked cup stacker!" he assures us, continuing to build. I sigh, placing my head in my hand as I shake my head in defeat. Makarov walks into the kitchen 'cause the lot of us to freeze. He's reading over something, caught up in his reading to really notice us. Picking one of the glass cups from Ivan's tower absent minded, Makarov walks over to the fridge. He places it under the water dispenser on the fridge as we stare at him, praying he doesn't notice the tower.

He starts to walk away but stops. Looking over at us and the stacked cups blankly, Makarov blinks. "What the hell are you three doing…with my glassware?" he asks, more confused than angry.

Langley point to Ivan, gesturing with his hands wildly. "He did it not-" he starts. But his gestures hit the side of the stack, causing Langley to freeze and flail around. The stack stops swaying and Langley gives a sigh of relief.

Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms as I choose to stay far away from delicate structure. "Idiots." I breathe.

Makarov shakes his head, obviously trying not to loose his head. "Why don't you three 'stooges' find something productive to do. Like give Erin a tour or something! Just…stay away from fragile objects." Makarov grumbles, shooting us a dark look before he walks away.

Ivan nods shakily, "Uh, y-yeah. S-sure thing boss, right away!" he answers, quickly working to dismantle his structure with the help of Langley. Ivan reaches to the top to grab a cup but it somehow slips from his grasp. But luckily I'm there to catch it smoothly with on hand. Ivan looks at me, relief reflecting in his stubbly face.

He nods, thanking me silently. I smirk, placing the cup in the cupboard. Langley clears his throat, "Well, um. I guess I'll start. This…is the kitchen." He states.

I smirk, glancing around the kitchen in sarcastic awe. "Oh really, I didn't know." I reply mockingly.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, now that's the living/dinning room." He continues, gesturing to the open connected room where Makarov and Anatoly are. I nod, my eyes falling onto the outdoor patio as I envision the amazing view. Ivan places an arm around my shoulder, steering me towards the upstairs. On the way, we pass a desk where a complex computer sits. The upstairs holds three separate rooms. I wiggle out from Ivan's grasp, shooting him a childish pout of distaste. "These are the bed rooms. The close door leads to the boss's room. The room immediately to the right is Anatoly and Viktor's. Yours is across the hall." Langley informs, showing me to my 'room.' It's a small box like room. Inside it holds a small bed, one small closet and bureau dresser. I am pleasure, though, to see I have a private bathroom. _Speaking of which, note to self: take shower. EW. _

Langley and Ivan fight for the lead down the stairs. Surprisingly they don't trip which I kinda wish would have happened. We turn right, following the same hall Viktor disappeared down. As we pass a small room, I take a glance in to see a lonely ham radio sitting on a table in the darkened room. Though I'm curious as to why it's there, I decided to just keep my trap shut.

"Now the last floor." Announces Ivan as we descend a flight of wooden stairs. He leads us into the first room, a small armory greeting us as an assortment of weaponry hangs on the walls. "Obviously you can see this is the armory." Ivan states, as he grins over at Langley.

Langley crosses his arms and looks away, "Shut it." He growls short. I quietly set my AK down by the other guns, keeping my hand gun on me.

I follow the two men out into the hall, stopping by an open door across the hall. It's a small room with two cots on either side of the room and an exposed patio door. "This is mine and Langley's room. Not much to it." Ivan explains, scratching the back of his head.

We pass by a door on the opposite side of the hall. I pause, peeking my head into the room. The first thing that catches my eye is Viktor beating on a lump punching bag. With every punch the poor punching bag swings away. Langley and Ivan peek in with me. "Yeah, this is the exercise room. Viktor spends most of his free time beating on that punching bag." Whispers Langley.

Quietly, we back up from the room before Viktor notices and use us as a punching bag.

The three of us walk back upstairs and reenter the living/dining/kitchen area. Anatoly sits on the couch, wearily resting his head back against the wall as we notice Makarov having a smoke outside on the patio. I walk over and sit next to Anatoly. "So…you're Anatoly? I'm Erin." I introduce myself as I put out my hand to shake.

He leans forward and looks at me questionably. A small smile crosses his lips as he shakes my hand delicately. "Please to finally meet you." He said his eyes vacant as it seems he's deep in thought.

My eyes glance over to the patio, watching Makarov stew in silence. "What's up with him?" I question, looking at Anatoly for the answer.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "We couldn't find the base of operations for Shepard." He mumbles dejectedly.

I raise an eyebrow, glancing at the sheets scattered across the table. "Were you able to narrow it down?" I question as I tried to help.

"Unfortunately, no." Anatoly sighs.

Gritting my teeth, I keep myself from yelling at Anatoly. Silently, I stand up and walk around the large room to dispel my rage. A map of the world catches my eye as I drift over to get a closer look. On the map, are a few colored pins pushed in on certain places. I tap my finger on the map then look over my shoulder at Anatoly, Langley and Ivan. "What do these pins represent on the map?" I inquire.

Langley walks over, scanning the map. "The blue are troop placement, red are safe houses and yellow are places we've hit." He explains.

I nod, taking in the new found data and looking over the map. Ivan shakes his head, grinning slyly. "You've got a plan, don't you?" he said confidently.

A smug smile crosses my face. "Roughly, yes. Now shh, I'm thinking." I reply, staring at the map as the wheels turn in my mind. I point to the blue pins and look back at Anatoly. "Where are the bulk of our troops stationed?" I ask.

He stands up and walks over. "Here on the Georgian-Russian border by the Caucasus mountains. And they're just taking control of the U.S. vehicle boneyard in Afghanistan. What are you planning?" he questions.

I smirk, picking up the land line phone. "To force Shepard into a checkmate." I answer, looking at the three, "Langley, my fellow actor. I'm going to need your help with this."

(Shepard's POV)

As I sit back in my chair, my jaw clenches in anger at this whole situation. This one girl had easily slipped through our defenses and left without a scratch. After questioning her friends for a fourth time, they still didn't give up any useful information. I grasp my hands into fists as I'm tempted to throw something against the wall in frustration. A knock comes upon the door. "S-sir, there's-" the voice starts.

"This better be fucking important." I growl back harshly, not in the mood to be disturbed by some idiotic situation or casualty report.

The door opens and a young soldier steps in hesitantly. He salutes me ridged which I return shortly. "I-it is sir. You have a p-phone call." He whimpers, scared to get on my bad side.

I blink, still glaring at him darkly. "I don't see how that's so important." I start, taking in a breath to start a huge debate about the level of importance of such things.

"Sir, it's her. T-The girl who betrayed you." The soldier replies quickly.

My face breaks, confusion setting in. "Erin? Very well, send it through." I order as I picked up my phone.

The soldier doesn't wait running back out of my office. A couple minutes later, the call is patched through. "Shepard?" a familiar female voice whispers from the other line.

I can't believe my ears but I don't let it show on my stone face, wondering what lies she has for me. "Yeah, what do you want? You have some nerve-" I grumble.

A cough comes from the other end. _Is she sick?_ "L-look, I know I betrayed you. But now I know…h-how it feels." She mutters weakly. She pauses, moving her mouth away from the phone to cough violently. "As soon as I gave Makarov the files, his guys jumped me and locked me in a room. I-I should have l-listened to you, Shepard." She mumbles.

I smirk, knowing she'd eventually crawl back. "Yeah, now what do you want?" I ask, not seeing her point.

"Y-You want to know where he's going to be?" she asks. I lean forward, now interested at what she has to say. "He's either at the U.S. vehicle disposal yard 437 in Afghanistan or at the safe house on the Georgian-Russian border." She explains, agitated. Writing this down, I feel the war to keep Makarov as the scapegoat returning to my favor. "S-Shepard I need to get out of here. T-They'll kill me for talking with you. I-I see a helicopter that I could maybe use. But I don't k-know how far I'll get. Where can I go?" she whispers, fear presented in her soft words.

One of my shadow company soldiers peeks in, "Sir, the planes are ready to go." He states, before leaving promptly with a salute as I wave him off.

"Look, I'm moving my forces to site hotel Bravo. You'll be safe there." I assure her.

There's a pause and another cough from her. "W-what about my friends?" she asks, her concern shifting.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "They'll stay here. Eventually they'll be brought back to their homes." I state. I'm about to continue with how once she's on base she'll be detained. But the sound of angry Russian on the other end stops me.

"Shit they're back-n-no stay away-" she pleads, screaming painfully. The line goes dead, replaced with a loud dial tone. I hang up and stare at the phone. _I don't think she's going to make it. Well I guess that's just one less loose end._ I walk out, going to brief my men about this change.

(Erin's POV)

A wide smile sits on my face as Langley helps me up from my seated spot on the ground. "Well, the traps been set. Langley you did awesome!" I squeal, overly zealous.

He scratches the back of his head, blushing slightly. "Oh please, I didn't just study acting to just pick up girls." He replies modestly.

Anatoly looks at me anxiously. "So?" he asks, fidgeting nervously.

Walking past him and over to the table, I search till I find the small pile referring to site hotel bravo. I take it and hand it over to him. "That, my friend is where he's at," I state optimistically.

Anatoly face brightens as he reads into the base. "Thinking three moves a head, are we?" said a familiar voice behind me. I turn slightly to look at Makarov.

Slyly, I crack a smile. "Always." I reply slowly.

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed this chapter of Russian Roulette. It was…interesting to write. Haha, the Shepard part was really hard but I made it through. Sorry for taking so long to update.

Please rate and review


	27. Abyss

Instead of partaking in the celebration with Ivan and Langley, I call it a night and retreat to my room. I close the door behind me, locking it shortly. Just because I'm in this deep, doesn't mean I'm letting my guard down THAT easy. The mental note I gave myself about the shower looms over me. I walk over to my bathroom, pausing at my suitcase to grab my PJ's. In the small bathroom are a shover, toilet, mirror and sink. A brush, comb and hair dryer sit orderly on the sink counter. _It's scary how he knows me. _I think dully, referring to Makarov.

I flip the water on, turning it to hot. My mind drifts as I let the water heat up. I guess the reason hot water appeals to me are from the cold winters back in Wisconsin. A frown sits on my face as I get lost in the memories of snow ball fights. I shake my self from my thoughts and check the water. The water scalds me sharply, causing me to snap my hand back. I swear under my breath as I turn the dial down a notch. When I feel the water settle on a nice degree, I strip off my clothes and enter the shower. Standing under the warm water, I feel the warmth wash over me like a wave. Smoothing the water in my hair, I soak up the intoxicating warm feeling given off by the water. I take a glop of shampoo and lather it into my hair. Once it covers most of my hair, I tilt my head back into the water spray.

Cold Wisconsin Winter. Hot showers.

Hot showers. Cold Russian Winter.

_The more things change, the more they stay the same..._

I sigh, as I wash the shampoo from my hair. Running a hand through my hair, memories flood into my mind. The memory of my times with Ghost hit me the hardest. Just thinking his name causes the pieces of my shattered heart to cut me deeply. Tears sprinkle my eyes, running down my face. _Ghost…I-I still love you…_ I hug myself, trying to believe the warmth from the water is from his embrace-which I know not to be true. Wiping the tears away with the back of my hand, sadness still remains. I take a small bit of condition and work it into my hair slowly. The warm water caresses me as the tears still fall from my eyes.

Cold circumstances. Hot regret.

Hot regret. Cold tears.

I turn the water off, the warmth disappearing in an instant. Cold air overcomes the feeling of warmth before I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. Condensation covers the mirror, the reflection blurred. Before, even with this blurred effect, I'd still be able to recognize my self. But no, not now. Instead, a monster glares back at me with piercing dark eyes. In pained frustration, I wipe my hand across the mirror. But still a stranger stares back. I sigh, looking away as condensation droplets run down the mirror like tears. It distorts my reflection, looking as if those tears were my own.

* * *

After I dry my hair, I slip into my PJ's. They consist of fuzzy pants bottoms and a black tank top. I smile softly as I remember all the sleep overs I wore these to. My smile slips from my face at the thought of these memories. I shake my head out of it, sitting down on the creaky twin cot. My hand traces the pillow. Taking it, I hug it tightly against me for comfort. As I do, I swear I smell his scent. _Ghost…_ I blink back the tears that threaten to spill as I remember how he made my heart flutter. _I'm so sorry…I wish it hadn't come to this._ Slowly, I curl up into a ball, hugging the pillow close as I drift to sleep.

_Hot regret…Cold tears._

I thought I was done with all the nightmares-but apparently not. The same abandon village invites me in. Bob isn't there though, which I breathe a sigh of relief for. Until I hear a loud pop and feel something hit my side. I let out an inaudible scream as I collapse onto my back, gripping my side in unimaginable pain. It's then Bob walks out from his hiding spot with his AK-47. He grins down at me. "Hey bitch, happy to see me?" he asks as he places the barrel against my head. And pulled the trigger.

I wake up abruptly, breathing heavily. Quickly, I check myself for any injures and are relieved to see none. The memory of the intense pain is burned into my mind as I shutter at the feeling. I place a hand over my eyes as I try to calm my nerves. Movement in the corner of the room alerts me. Sitting up, I peer into the darkness. A figure retreats into the darkness of the corner to try and avoid my gaze. I jump, grabbing my hand gun from the side table hastily.

"Whoa, Whoa! Chill bitch, it's just me!" hisses the familiar voice of the monster of my dreams-Bob. I blink, raising an eye brow as I click the light on my night stand on. Sure enough, the figure is the slender form of bob.

With the same red eyes that burn into my soul. "Bob? Why the hell are you still haunting me? You said there was no reason for you to stick around!" I growl, keeping my voice low so no one else in the house hears me chatting with 'Casper the not so friendly ghost'.

Bob shrugs, "Yeah, I said that. But the after life was just too boring." He admits, smirking cruelly, "Besides, giving you nightmares is so much more fun. I also want to be here to witness your agonizing death." He leans against the bureau lazily as he stares at me interestedly. Like he expected me to die right there.

I run a hand through my hair. "So you're not going to let me sleep. You are a sick bastard Bob." I hiss, sopping my self before I said I wished he was dead. Technically, he already is so that won't be much of an insult.

He smirks, "One of the sickest bastards you know!" he replies cheerfully as if it was a prize to be named that.

I grumble, hating to be in this confined space with him. So I stand up and walk out of my room silently. On the way out, I grab a shawl since I'm intending to explore the patio. Bob floats after, quietly taking in the house. I reach the patio; Bob doesn't follow, instead choosing to float around the house. Soundlessly, I open the sliding door to the patio. The night air is a lot colder than the warm day temperatures. Shivering, I draw the shawl close around me. I walk to the railing and take in the beautiful landscape. In the night, the trees look like silent masses that would swallow a lonely wandering in their dark abyss.

'…_And if you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.'_ Lulled the words of Friedrich Nietzsche. I remember reading his quotes, smart man.

The trees' branches flutter slightly in the light breeze. In the distance, I hear the call of a lone wolf, communicating with its pack. The moon is partially hidden by the light wispy clouds of the night sky. I close my eyes, taking in the sounds of the night. The wind brushes through my hair, causing a shiver to run up my spine.

"You can't sleep either?" questions a voice suddenly from behind me. I jump slightly, my thoughts being interrupted. I turn to see who occupies the patio with me.

Langley stands there in dark flannel PJ's, his blonde hair slightly tasseled. My heart still beats fast from how he'd snuck up on me, "Yeah, you too?" I reply, watching as he joined me by the railing.

He leans against the railing, looking out over the dark forest. "Yeah." He mutters quietly. We both stare out at the forest, silence hanging over us as the only sound is that of the wind whistling through the trees.

* * *

Author's Note: Ugh, I'm sorry guys for not updating in a while-a loooooong while. What's funny is this actually has another 4 pages but I felt this was just too good of a spot to stop. So I did. Well, I hope those of you who still are holding on like this chapter!

Please rate and review.


	28. The Insomniacs

The silence between Langley and me, as we stand on the patio, is slightly diluted by the song of the night wind. It's not long, though, till a familiar face decides to 'grace' us with his prescience. "Well, NOW it's a party." Speaks a voice from behind the two of us. We look back to see the familiar smirking face of Ivan. He joins us by the railing, standing on the other side of me. He lights up a cigar, looking up into the night sky. The cluster of stars shine brightly across the ebony canvas as lonely cloud puffs drift across it lazily. Once again, the silence looms above us. Finally, Ivan decides to break the silence. "My friends, I believe we are insomniacs." He states blankly, out of the blue. He hands the cigar to Langley.

Langley nods dismally, taking a drag from the cigar before passing it back. "So it would seem." He mutters dryly.

Ivan nods, taking in the cigar before handing it to me. Langley shoots him a disapproving look. "Ivan, if she doesn't drink I highly doubt-" Langley starts heatedly. But I swiftly take the cigar from Ivan's hand.

I blow out a puff of smoke before handing the cigar back to Ivan. Langley exchanges a look with Ivan before staring at me in confusion. I glance at them, emotionlessly, "What? I promised my sister I won't drink underage. But I didn't promise not to smoke." I remark, the sharp taste of tobacco still residual on my tongue. I turn my back to the forest, leaning my back against the railing. "So, question, why are we insomniacs? What haunts our sleep?" I ask, looking from the two men for the answer to my question.

Ivan shrugs, "Honestly, I don't know. Well, I do. I'd just much rather not tell." He replies quietly, passing the cigar to Langley. Langley stares at the cigar, lost in his thoughts.

I blink, sharing a concern look with Ivan. "Langley? You OK?" I inquire, placing a hand on his shoulder. Langley jolts away, pulled from his thoughts. Shock sits in his blue eyes.

He gulps as he nods rigidly. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just…remembering." He mumbles, taking a long drag from the cigar. With that, the cigar is sadly finished. But I guess that's to be expected with three people using it.

I shake my head, staring at Langley seriously. "Langley, what's up? Come on you can tell us. Hell, I'll tell you why I can't sleep. This guy I killed haunts me. There. I said it, your turn." I grumble, slightly impatient. Bob pops his head out through the wall, shinning me a dark smile. I roll my eyes, trying my best to just ignore him.

Langley looks away. "A year ago, I was studying the performing arts in college. I chose a school that was far off from my village, from my family. My dad walked out on us, leaving me the oldest male when I was only 8, to take care of my younger brother and sister." He starts, pausing to glare at the ground ferrously, "My mom worked most of the time. They never saw it coming-dammit how could I have been so stupid!" he growls, punching the railing hard.

Ivan raises an eyebrow, concern plastered on his unshaven face. "Whoa, what do you mean by that?" he questions.

Langley bites his lip to try to stop it from quivering. "I-I left them, alone. My family, my younger siblings, to go off to college to chase after a STUPID dream!" he cries quietly, the hardness crumbling away as tears began to form in his soft eyes.

I squeeze his shoulder in comfort. "Langley, don't say that…" I whisper, trying to comfort him.

"No…I wasn't there to protect them. I-I failed them…I should have been there to protect them from those monsters!" Langley seethed darkly as tears slipped from his eyes.

My eye brow raises in question. "What 'monsters'?" I ask quietly, haft expecting him to say something about vampires or werewolves.

He looks up, pure hatred burning in his once soft eyes. "Those damn loyalists…they blew my village SKY HIGH! For no reason! It was just filled of families, kids! T-those monsters…I hope they all burn in hell!" he growls sharply, "And I'll be happy to be the one to put them there." Though his eyes show hatred, the tears still drop from his eyes. I can see he's still hurting.

Frowning sadly, I pat him softly on the shoulder. My eyes travel to Ivan who avoids my eyes. "Langley…" I start but stop, knowing I have nothing to say.

Langley looks over at us, wiping his eyes. "That's why I'm here. That's what haunts me." He states flatly.

I look out onto the forest again, my mind wondering. When you choose which pawns will move, you consider everything. The pluses and minuses of their move, how easily you can control them and to what extent they'll go for you. Out of the corner of my eyes, I gaze at Langley. Langley expresses regret for loosing his family. _Makarov most certainly manipulate people easily through their emotions. _Just looking at Langley, Makarov probably brain washed him into thinking he'd be given a chance to kill the loyalists. Once you give them a goal, you can control them. When you control them, they'll go to what ever lengths needed to achieve the goal you first gave them.I smirk, _Well Makarov, you certainly are good at controlling your pawns. Classic manipulation. Didn't Law and Order have an episode about that?_

I glance over at Ivan whose normal grin is absent from his face. Whatever was haunting his dream must have been pretty bad. I debate pestering him about it but decide against it. We finally get back into some normal conversation, mostly about the way Makarov has an uncanny resemblance to Dane Cook.

Author's note: Short chapter. This was originally supposed to go at the end of the previous chapter, but it didn't fit. I really like how this chapter came out. For the most part, I expanded on my rough draft writing tremendously. Oh and the Dane Cook joke was a suggestion by Jacob0392.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review!


	29. Red

'Red'

Day 7, Month 1

Erin Tanili

Makarov's Terrorist Group

Siberian Region

The night slips past unnoticed by Ivan, Langley and I as we get lost in conversations. A lazy sun peeks out from the horizon, casting a warm light across the land. Anatoly peeks out of the open patio door at us, confusion playing in his light green eyes. "You guys are already up?" he questions, causing us to exchange a look with each other before looking back at him.

Ivan shoots him a sheepishly grin, scratching the back of his head. "We've been up-for a while. If you catch my drift." He replies, searching the older man's face for understanding.

Anatoly blinks before shaking his head distastefully. A small smile lies on his face, though. "So it would seem. Breakfast is going to be ready in a few minutes." He said before disappearing back inside the house.

* * *

Having had enough of outside, I disappear inside. Anatoly is just placing plates of food on the cleared off fold out table. I raise an eyebrow as I quietly observe his actions. "Hey, is there anything I can do?" I finally ask.

Anatoly jumps slightly, nearly loosing a plate of odd looking pancakes. But he recovers, setting the near lost pancake plate on the table. He smiles warmly at me. "That's very nice of you, but every thing's pretty much set." He states, busying himself by checking on a pot of coffee.

I shrug, my eyes glancing over the amble amount of food set out on the table. _How the hell did he make all this so fast?_ I thought, questionably.

After calling the others for breakfast, I watch as Ivan and Langley stare at the food keenly. Even Viktor has abandoned his usual dark glare, instead choosing to set his eyes on some sort of sandwich mound. Makarov strolls into the room, his eyes glued to the newspaper in his hand, as he grabs a cup of coffee. With that, he backs away from the table. Anatoly pulls me back from the table slowly. "You might want to back up. They tend to go a little 'crazy' whenever I make breakfast." He warns quietly.

I raise an eyebrow at him. _That sounds like you're blowing this really out of proportion- _But when Anatoly snaps his fingers, the three guys literally attack the food table. My eyes blink in shock confusion. _Well, I stand corrected._ The group move away from the table with their plates piled high with what looks to be about everything. "So, uh, what's left?" I ask plainly, glancing at Anatoly.

"Usually the bread, pancakes and kasha." He replies calmly, shrugging his shoulders, "They're more, meat eaters than anything really." The way he said this tells me this happens-a lot.

We approach the table, the once amble amount of food now dwindle down to only a few choices. I pause, suddenly realizing I have no idea what kasha is. "Wait, what's kasha?" I inquire.

Anatoly smiles slightly, as he points to a porridge like food substance. "That's kasha. It's buckwheat porridge." He reveals, spooning a glop onto his plate. I blink, stifling a laugh. _Please sir, may I have some more porridge? _I thought jokingly. Though the kasha looks 'interesting', I decide to play it safe and go with the pancakes.

Seeing how Ivan and Langley are devouring their breakfast blindly, I decide to avoid them while they're in this state. I stand by Anatoly, who's eating by himself, and shine him a smile. "So, Anatoly. How are you?" I ask blankly, taking a bite out of my pancake.

He looks up and nods. "I'm good, and your self?" he replies back, happiness dancing in his green eyes.

"Well, I'm just peachy." I state contentedly. A pause sits over us as we eat our different breakfasts. I look up at him, a question sitting on my mind. My eyes glance from Anatoly to over to Makarov who's in his own little anti-social world of reading. _How did a guy like Anatoly end up with such a jerk like Makarov? _I gaze back at Anatoly, swallowing a piece of my pancake. "How'd you end up with these guys, anyway?" I whisper quietly, so no one else over hears.

Anatoly stops chewing and swallows a lump of porridge abruptly. He looks at me. "I had met Makarov while I was studying for my major." He explains, stirring his spoon through his grainy cereal.

"And what, exactly, were you guys studying?" I question, raising an eyebrow in question. Seeing how confident and smooth Makarov is, I wonder if he studied business-

Anatoly smiles sheepishly, "I was studying nuclear engineering while Makarov was studying psychology and sociology." He answers.

I blink, taking the last bit of my pancake and chewing it slowly. _Well, THAT figures…_Having finished my breakfast, I decide to help Anatoly with the dishes. Some how, I end up next to the one person who hates me more than Wisconsin hates Favre. Viktor grunts disapprovingly as I stand in between of him and Anatoly. Anatoly washes the dishes while I dry and Viktor puts them away. While drying a particularly sharp knife, I scoot over to Anatoly. Fear escalates in me, not wanting to give Viktor any sharp objects. Observing how Viktor is, I don't want to run the chance of him 'slipping' with the knife and having it get lodged into my chest cavity. "Hey Anatoly, you want to put his knife away…FAR from Viktor please?" I hiss under my breath.

Anatoly gives me a weird look before shrugging and taking the knife from me. I give a quiet sigh of relief. "I don't need a knife to kill you. I have other ways." Viktor murmurs darkly, as Anatoly walks out of ear shot. I tense up with the sound of this threat. Viktor is about to name off the ways but luckily Anatoly comes back. I let out a nervous pent up breath. Silently, I remind myself to stay away from Viktor. Just in case he might want to 'show' me the other ways to kill someone.

* * *

Once the dishes are done, Makarov calls all of our attention to him. I slip away from Viktor, standing by Ivan as we listen to what Makarov has to say. His blue and green eyes pan the group. "Alright, tonight we're going to the city of Irkustk. I expect you all to show the most highest form of dignity at the place we're going." He states sharply, setting his harden glare on Ivan and Langley who cringe at the look.

I blink, looking from the two screw balls to Makarov. "What do you mean by that?" I ask, wondering where the hell we're going.

He glance at me once before looking at the whole group. "We're going to a gentlemen's club-to work out a deal. If any of you do ANYTHING that could draw attention to us, I will personally end you." He growls darkly in his Russian accent.

Ivan and Langley gulp nervously, stuttering out a 'yes boss'. Makarov eyes sweep over the group once more before waving us off. He's about to vanish down the hall but stops. Glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes set on me. "I suggest you wear the red one. It suits you better." He comments, off handily before walking down the hall.

I stand there in utter confusion, my eyebrow raised. "'The red one'? What the fuck does that mean?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips as I glare after him.

Anatoly clears his throat, "In the closet in your room, is a red dress. That's what he means." He answers me before turning to speak to the whole group, "OK you guys. We leave at two. That gives you all four hours to get ready. Usual protocol, light weaponry. Got it?" he states, his once timid nature doing a complete 180.

Viktor grumbles something incoherent under his breath as he pulls six different hand guns, two full scale rifles and some grenades off of his persons. He picks up two of the hand guns, checking the full clip before cocking it. He checks the sight, looking purposely at me. I gulp, inching out of his sight. _Remind me to not get caught in his line of fire. I'm pretty damn sure it won't be 'friendly' fire then…_Three Hours till departure

* * *

Once I'm done showering, I slip into some clean clothes. Before I exit my room, I go to inspect the dress. When I open my closet door, a few different items hang in there. But a blood red dress is what jumps out at me. It's got a halter top that ends in a hand kerchief cut bottom hem. Light glitter speckles the dress. It's a real beautiful dress and I can't help but try it on. The dress sits on me comfortably, flattering my curves. I check my self in the mirror in the bathroom, fluffing my hair. Suddenly I stop myself. _What am I doing? This is not the time to be playing dress up! _Though I agree with this though, there isn't much I can do about this. With a sigh, I exit my room.

Two hours till departure

With boredom toying with my mind slightly, I decide to see where Ivan and Langley have disappeared to. I venture down the hall, intending to go down the stairs. But the sound of a voice from a room in the hall catches my attention. I press myself up against the side of the wall by the open door. Carefully, I lean to see in. Makarov stands alone in the small un-decorated room with his back to me. He's fiddling over the ham radio, working to clear the static up. Finally a male British laced voice drifts out clearing from the radio. "…I know you can hear me on this channel Makarov. You and I both know you won't last a week." Drawls the voice.

He sounds oddly familiar but I can't place my finger on where I've heard that voice from. Makarov tightens his grip on the receiver, anger causing his shoulders to tense up. "And neither will you." He spat sharply.

"Makarov, you now the old saying…the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" the voice questions.

Makarov clenches his jaw. "Price, one day you're going to find that cuts both ways." He grumbles, opening a manila folder, "Shepard is using site hotel Bravo. You know where it is. I'll see you in hell."

My eyes light up. _Price? That's the old guy Mactavish rescued. Why the hell is in interested to know where Shepard is? _A bad feeling dawns on me as I wonder what's happened. I'm so lost in my thoughts; I barely hear Price's reply. "Looking forward to it. Give my regards to Zakhaev if you get there first." Price replies lightly, signing off.

Makarov glowers down at the radio for a moment before throwing the receiver at the poor thing. I wince, this action drawing me from my clouded thoughts. Seeing on angry Makarov is, I decide now would not be the best time to be caught eavesdropping. I slip back into the living room and decide to wait there till we depart.

Bob appears out of the wall, cocking his head to the side as a Cheshire cat smile sits on his face. "My, my! Don't you look pretty." He comments.

My dark eyes cast him a look that just screams, 'shut up before I throw some holy water on your ass.' But it dissolves into a confused expression. Normally Bob only shows up to taunt me with horrible dreams. Seeing him now would have to be the first time I've seen him in day light since the day I killed him. I lean back on the chair I sit, looking at Bob puzzled. "OK, so why the hell are you haunting me-in the day time?" I question in hushed tones.

This causes a smirk to be fall Bob's face as he sits on the folded table in front of me. "Well, if I don't haunt you every waking moment-which for you is all the time-I'll miss out on seeing you die." He states, smiling at me innocently.

I sigh, placing a hand over my eyes as I shake my head defeated. "Wonderful…" I mumble. With the knowledge of Bob's ever lasting presence a not so welcome thing.

* * *

Author's note: Oh wow, I haven't updated in so long. Like almost two weeks! Crap, I'm sorry people-who-still-read-this. But band camp has really turned everything around and upside down. I personally don't like how this chapter turned out, I think its just-blah. But I do have some good news; next chapter will pick up the plot. These past couple of chapters has just been sorta 'filler' chapters.

So expect some interesting stuff. Oh and also note that these chapters have tiny bits of information that will come back in later chapters. In other words, I didn't just write these for no reason!

Please rate and review


	30. Maky Dear

'Maky Dear'

Day 7, Month 1

Erin Tanili

Makarov's Terrorist Group

Irkustk, Siberian Region, Russia

Now what Makarov calls a 'Gentlemen's club' is more commonly known in the U.S. as a strip club. Thankfully we don't sit in view of the scandalously clade women. We instead sit at a secluded table on the second level. Anatoly, Makarov and I sit around the table wile Viktor, Ivan and Langley stand guard behind us. The music beat vibrate the level quietly, going unnoticed by us. Makarov is conversing with Anatoly, going over some papers. I roll my eyes, boredom setting in. Langley shifts uncomfortably behind me. I look over at him, a small smile crossing my lips but it doesn't reach my eyes. "So, Langley. Care to explain what happened the last time you guys were here?" I inquire, quite interested at what he did to make Makarov so pissed off.

Langley visibly winces, unable to look at me directly. "Well…let's just say I did some things I'm not proud of. Ivan put me up it." He said, shooting an oblivious Ivan an accusing look.

I shake my head disapprovingly. "That figures." I mumble, noticing movement out the corner of my eye. I turn back, seeing a short older man with greying hair, lumber up to our table.

A look of shocked disgust lines his round face. "Makarov. You have some nerve showing your face here. Especially after how your two associates messed around with one of my dancers!" the man snarls, his Russian accent flaring. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Langley wince at this statement.

Makarov sits unfazed by this, taking a sip of his drink nonchalantly. "Good to see you to, Kuchenko." He responds, ignoring the older man's fiery persona. Cooly, Makarov looks up at Kuchenko emotionlessly, "There's no need to ranting on. Its water under the bridge…my two associates were punished accordingly and know of the consequences if it happens again." Makarov reassures him with a formal smile.

Kuchenko glances from Langley back to Makarov. "Yeah. Well 'cause of you and your people, I have the damn FSB watching every move I make outside of here. So whatever you want, you can take that and shove it up-" he starts heatedly.

"I'm not here for guns, Kuchenko. I'm quite interested in the chemical agent you and your associates have been working on." Makarov cuts it.

The anger disappears from Kuchenko's face suddenly. "H-how do you know about that?" breathes Kuchenko, taking aback.

Makarov smiles smugly, taking another sip from his drink. "I have my sources." He replies simply.

Kuchenko gulps, regaining his composer slightly. "What do you want?" he asks quietly, glancing around the room.

This causes a small laugh to come from Makarov. "I want to make a deal. Simple as that. One that involves a particular 'political figure'." Makarov replies smoothly.

"Vorshevsky? What are you planning?" Kuchenko asks, narrowing his eyes at the mad dog killer.

Makarov leans forward in his chair, "You supply the agent, and I bring it, strike a deal with Vorshevsky and have the money wired to split between me and you. 60/40." He states firmly.

I blink, looking from Kuchenko to Makarov. My mind wanders to what sort of chemical agent it is and what the Russian president would want with it. But I decide it's best to just sit back and learn that later on. "What? No, 50/50." Kuchenko growls.

"70/30." Makarov said, bringing the deal down.

Kuchenko scoffs, gritting his teeth. "Why do I need you when I can deliver it myself and get 100!" he question ferrously.

Makarov smirks darkly. "Because the FSB are watching your every move, you said it your self. Now I can easily drift past them because they're not looking for me. Plus, I highly doubt you'd know how to talk to Vorshevsky." Makarov replies, down playing Kuchenko's outburst.

Kuchenko shuts his mouth, stewing as he let's Makarov's words soak in. Finally he shakes his head in submission. "You, sir, would have made on HELL of a sales man. I'll do it, for 60/40. I guarantee you the agent will be ready in two to three months." Kuchenko replies.

Makarov nods, taking a short sip from his drink. "And the money will be wired once the missile has launched. Pleasure doing business with you." He said, smirking at the salesman comment.

Kuchenko grunts a responds, starting to turn away. But he stops when he notices me. A sly smile crosses his pudgy face. "Hey, why not make the broad part of the deal? I've needed a new dancer." Kuchenko coos, looking back at Makarov interested.

I gulp, fear escalating at the sudden conversation switch of focus points. Makarov doesn't reply, his mind turning this over. He places his arm around the back of my chair, shooting Kuchenko a fake smile. "She's not part of this deal." He states quickly.

Kuchenko's smile widens, nodding his head. "Oh, I see. She's your girl. Please accept my apologies. She's very beautiful. What's her name?" Kuchenko asks, sending me an apologetic smile.

"Rose. She's a real keeper." Makarov answers back, forcing the smile on his face. My face remains neutral, smiling slightly, as I hold my laughter in.

It's amazing how Makarov easily tricked this guy. "Ah, that's for sure. Now can I ask something of you two?" Kuchenko asks.

Makarov exchanges a look with me. "Well, I'm sure whatever it is, we'll be more than happy to answer it. Isn't that right, Rose dear?" Makarov chimes, over doing the positive attitude. His smile reminds me oddly of the clown from 'It'.

But I ignore that thought, smiling cute. "Of course, Maky." I reply, laying on the sappiness with a layer of my 'Russian' accent.

Kuchenko grins, "A Romanian girl? Damn, you sure know how to pick 'em." He snorts.

For a second my face falters. _Roman__ian? I was going for Russian! Ugh, dammit. _But I replace the false smile as Makarov looks over at me. "Yep, now what was that thing you wanted to ask us?" he questions, looking over at Kuchenko.

Kuchenko scratches the back of his head. "Well, I was just wondering if I could see a kiss. Between the two of you. So I can see that true love still exists." He replies dejectedly, looking away slightly embarrassed.

My smile nearly drops at the mention of 'kiss' and 'between the two of you'. But I keep the charade going, as I scream curses in my head. Makarov clears his throat, obviously not seeing this out come coming. "Uh…well, sure. There's nothing wrong with that." Makarov answers rigidly.

I look over at him, my eyes silently berating him as my smile shines the opposite. Makarov pulls me in for the kiss and I regrettably let him. His lips are rough and have the faint taste of alcohol that makes me want to gag. The way the kiss is, it feels like a task, like its just business. Which in a way it is. Ghost flashes into my mind as I wander how much this would hurt him to see this. The pieces of my shattered heart twist painfully inside of me at the mere thought of seeing him hurt. Finally the kiss ends. Inside, I feel cold, empty and remorseful for this. I want to slap Makarov so hard he'll head will spin but I know I have to keep my composure. Our heads are old a few centimeters away. I lean forward to his ear. "You better not have enjoyed that." I hiss sharply.

He smirks, "Please, I hated it as much as you 'Rosy'." He mumbles back shortly. We lean away, placing our fake smiles back on. Mentally, I'm chastising myself for the kiss.

Kuchenko grins, point at us. "Now that, right there, is true love. Haha, I wish you two the best." He said happily, turning to walk away, "The agent will be ready soon, Makarov, see you then." He mutters, disappearing out of sight.

My fake smiles drops as I frantically wipe my mouth off. Makarov keeps his composure, wiping his mouth off with a napkin delicately. My dark eyes glare at him, "Why the HELL did you agree to that? Hell, why did you even agree I was your girl?" I snap, taking a swig of my Pepsi. I swish it around in my mouth before spitting it out onto the floor, disgusted.

"I didn't plan on him noticing you. I had to think fast on my feet, OK?" he growls back, leaning back in his chair.

My eyes glower at him, "You could have just said I was your sister of something." I mutter dryly, shuddering at the memory of the kiss.

Makarov rolls his eyes, slightly angered. "He was the one who suggested you were my girl, not me. I had to run with it, or he'd never stop trying to make that deal." He states flatly, "Plus, how the hell was I supposed to know he'd mistaken a friendly arm-around-chair move as a different level of affection."

"Yeah, he doesn't seem to be the _sharpest_ tool in the shed. Thinking I was Romanian instead of Russian…." I mumble sourly as I cross my arms across my chest.

Ivan has a goofy smile on his face. "So…you two-" he starts, intending to make a crack on the kiss.

I snap my head, glaring back at him. "Shut it, Ivan." I snipe sharply. He shuts his mouth immediately, gulping visibly.

Makarov runs a hand through his short dark hair. "We're never to speak of this again." He sates shortly, his harden glare canvassing the group, "Agreed?"

"Agreed." I reply, relieved. It's in this moment, I'm glad Bob isn't floating around. For I'd never hear the end of this.

* * *

A Few minutes later…

We're on our way out. I choose to cringe away from Makarov in disgust. But Kuchenko is standing off to the side, conversing with someone. Makarov abruptly places an arm around my shoulders, the action robotic. Kuchenko notices us and smiles slightly. Once we're out the door and around the corner, my smile turns into a sour frown. "You have five seconds to get your arm off of me." I growl. Makarov quickly removes his arm form my shoulder. I smile sweetly, "Thanks, Maky dear." I reply sarcastically.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey how's everyone doing? Yeah, I believe one part needs some explaining. The kiss scene…oh my sweet baby rays sauce; it was extremely difficult for me to type. I just couldn't do it. But I persevered, and tada! Another chapter is completely. This, my friends, is the start of something amazing-the plot. So, hope you enjoyed this chapter.

I thank NewTport for their positive review. :) I always love to hear that someone appreciates the fillers I write.

Second, I thank xStealthxSniperx for their review. I like writing scenes when people dig into breakfast, I don't know why, I just personally do. Haha. But it's good to know that I have some people who liked 'A Fine Line' and drifted over to this story.

School starts tomorrow, so expect chapter updates to slow. Possibly, I will try to update at least once a week. Oh and if anyone can tell me where I got the name 'Kuchenko' from, will get a virtual cookie! Hint: it's from an old TV show that doesn't exactly have main characters.

Sorry for the long author's note and please rate and review!

~Erin


	31. Becoming a loose end

'Revelations'

Two Months later, Month 3

Erin Tanili

Makarov's Terrorist group

Moscow, Russia

President Vorshevsky sits blandly in his darken office, at a cluttered oak desk. He's bent over; looking closely at the paper's littering his desk. Over the year's, his eye sight has deteriorated to the point he has to look at font by placing his face right up against the paper. The snow outside drifts from the darken sky, slipping down the window unnoticed by the older man. A knock on the door sounds, rousing Vorshevsky from his reading. "Come in." he calls, rubbing his eyes in attempt to correct years of failing eyesight to no avail.

A slender man peeks his head into the room, his bald head shinning dully. "Sir, what are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be heading home?" the young man questions.

Vorshevsky smiles warily, holding up some papers. "I just have to finish reading some papers. It's about National Security…I'm pretty sure that takes priority over sleep." He replies pessimistically.

The younger man raises an eyebrow in interest, "Sir, I'm pretty sure what ever it is will remain in the same state tomorrow." He reasons.

Vorshevsky shakes his head, gazing over to the frosted window pane. "I'm afraid to have to disagree with you, Alik. It's those damn Americans; they've made land and are progressively making their way inland." He explains, looking at the younger man grimly, "It's only a matter of time before they arrive in Moscow."

Alik, the younger man blinks, his eyes widening, "W-what? Sir, are you sure you're not over exaggerating?" he exclaims.

The older man nods solemnly, "I am sure. With the amount of losses in America, our army is weak and will not be able to drive the American scum back. I'm sorry to sound so pessimistic, but it's simply what's to come." Vorshevsky foretells, glancing at the younger man, "Revenge is at first sweet, but bitter when it recoils back." He shakes his head, going back to his papers.

The younger man shifts uncomfortably, "But our revenge was justified, was it not?" he argues, looking at Vorshevsky, scared of what his answer would yield.

"No revenge is ever justified…it's bred from anger and is acted upon impulse. I fear we have dug two graves, and we can only wait till the time comes when we fill the last grave." Vorshevsky declares, glancing at Alik from over his paper.

Alik sighs, nodding defeated. "Right…I'll see you tomorrow, sir." He mumbles, disappearing out the door without another word.

Vorshevsky shakes his head, turning back to his work. "If Moscow is still standing…." He answers dryly, though Alik has long left the room. Movement in the corner catches his eyes. He looks up, arching an eyebrow in confusion. "Whose there?" he inquires.

I step out of the shadows, a sly smile painted on my lips. "Just me." I reply, slowly sashaying over to his desk.

Vorshevsky's eyes travel the length of my body suggestively. I ignore his wandering eyes, sitting on his desk in front of him. "You look like you need a…break." I breathe slowly.

He nods, "Y-yeah…so. What are you doing here?" he asks, loosening his collar nervously.

"Oh I'm here for the _fun_ part. You know…the distraction part." I purr. Without warning, Viktor and Ivan grab Vorshevsky's from behind by his arms. He gives a small cry of surprise, his eyes darting back at the two men back to me in shock.

Makarov drifts out from the darkness, smiling cunningly. "Evening, Mr. President." He spoke slowly, letting the words drift through the room slowly.

Vorshevsky narrows his eyes at the younger Russian, "Makarov. Have you come to kill me?" he questions, no obvious sign of fright present.

"Please, if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." Makarov responds. His blue and green eyes stare across the desk at the older man, pausing to let the moment sink in.

Vorshevsky gives a weak smile, "Well, then whatever you are here for must be worst." He sighs, unaware of my curiousness in the papers on his desk.

A smile crosses Makarov's face, "Oh don't think so negatively. I'm here to help." He replies.

"Really and why would I want your help?" Vorshevsky asks, glowering at Makarov in defiance.

Curiosity gets the better of me, for I pick up the manila folder Vorshevsky had been grueling over. I begin reading the document. To my dismay, it's in Russian. But a few satellite snapshots of terrain catch my eyes. They show a large force of military vehicles advancing across into unknown territory. But from Vorshevsky's conversation, I deduce this unknown terrain is Russia. With a smirk, I pass the folder to Makarov. "Really, well it looks to me you could use all the help you can get." I comment.

Vorshevsky's face drops as his eyes settle on the folder in Makarov's hands. He's quiet for a second, thinking for a second. "Alright, what do you got." He asks, finally giving into Makarov's deal.

"Vorshevsky. Do you want to be remembered in history as the idiot who blindly led his troops to war AND let Moscow fall to America? I don't think you do. That's why I and one of my associates are working on a special chemical agent. And we're in the market-for the highest bidder," Makarov sells, closing the folder and tossing it on the desk.

Vorshevsky blinks, frowning slightly. "What's so special about it? I have hundred of different chemical agents at my disposal-" he starts.

Makarov holds up his hand, stopping Vorshevsky's ramble. "This is different. It's part pancuronium bromide and potassium chloride. They're the last two components in the lethal injection process. My associate, through his connections, has found a way to mix the two together to keep their same effects-but 10 times more powerful." Makarov explains.

Vorshevsky perks up, "Lethal injection, eh? Why the last two components?" he questions.

"The first one causes the applicant to go limp, unable to feel the effects of the pancuronium bromide-which causes paralysis. The last one causes cardiac arrest. You want America to pay, right? Why numb them from the pain after everything they've done?" Makarov growls, his eyes glaring at me suddenly.

I gulp, shying away from his gaze. Vorshevsky smiles, "OK, you got my attention Makarov. Now, let's talk price," He said, glancing back, "Now if your men would release me, we can begin."

Makarov nods at Viktor and Ivan who release the Russian president. Makarov looks down at me darkly. "Go tell Anatoly we're almost done here. Then go wait in the car." He sneers, forcefully pulling me off the desk. I stumble slightly, shooting him a look before I stalk out of the room.

The darken halls swallows me whole as I quietly creep through the shadows. The deal had gone just as Makarov had said it'd would. But I can't help but feel slightly on edge. Lately, Makarov has been acting cold towards me. I try to convince myself it's just how a man like him acts. Quietly I slip into a darken room, the only light coming from a lap top screen. A slumped over figure blocks the light slightly. "So, how did the deal go?" the figure asks, without looking up from the screen.

I walk over, sighing, "It went as he planned-no surprise there." I reply, a hint of discontent in my voice.

Anatoly looks up at me, the artificial light from the laptop casting a ghostly light on his face. "Something troubling you, Erin?" he questions, concern in his Russian accent.

As much as I want to spill everything about Makarov's PMSing mood towards me, I decided against it. Anatoly is Makarov's right hand man and there's not doubt in my mind he'd relay everything I'd say back to the boss. "It's nothing…" I mutter, glancing behind me, "By the way, the deal's almost done. So we should be getting out of here."

Anatoly nods, "Right, I'll start packing up." He replies, rising from his seat. I nod, turning to exit the room when he stops me. "Wait. The deal may be over, but we still have to keep our guard up. Take this." He states, handing me a small one ear radio.

I take it, placing it in my ear hesitantly. "Why, isn't the way we got in safe?" I ask with confusion set in my face.

"I'm afraid, the areas hot. A lot of guards have been sighted patrolling that wing." He reveals, shaking his head distastefully.

I swear under my breath. "Do they know something's up?" I inquire, glancing behind me.

Anatoly shakes his head, "No, doesn't look like it. But that doesn't mean we have to alert them to it. Keep you eyes open and I'll warn you if I see anyone." Anatoly orders, turning back to the laptop and opening several windows of camera feed.

I sigh, feeling the pressure of having to be stealthy tighten in my chest. Wordlessly, I exit the room and start down the corridor. I stop at the corner, pressing myself against the wall. Slowly, I peek around the corner to see empty darkness before me. The fire escape, where Langley sat in the alley below in the car, was just at the end of this corridor. I enter the corridor; quicken my pace with the knowledge of how close I was to freedom shinning in the darkness. But it feels like with every step the corridor gets increasingly longer. "Erin, watch out! A guard will be entering the corridor from your left in fifteen seconds!" Anatoly warns through the ear bud in my ear.

Thinking fast, I slip through a door just as I hear the footsteps turn into the hall. I lean against eh door, giving a silent sigh of relief. "Get out of there, Erin." Anatoly hisses warningly.

I jump slightly, "What? Why?" I snap back quietly in response.

"Because you picked the wonderful hiding spot of the guard break room." Anatoly answers back. My heart drops as he revealed this bit of information.

My eyes quickly canvas the room, "Is the guard gone? Do I have a window for escape out of here?" I question back in hushed tones.

There's a pause on the other line, only adding to my panicked state. "I'm afraid not. You're stuck between a rock and a hard place." Anatoly responds grimly.

I shake my head as I look around for some escape route. Finally my eyes settle on the window. "Anatoly, I have visual on an escape route and I am taking it," I mumble back, making my way to the window.

"Erin, no! The fire escape is 15 feet from that window! You'll never make it." Anatoly states pessimistically.

I ignore his warning, opening the window and kicking the screen out. "Shut it, Anatoly, this is all I got. If I make it, then you owe me an apology and I get to say I told you so. If I don't make it…well I guess you get to say I told you so." I grumble, turning off my radio so I don't have to hear his response. Carefully, I step out onto the small ledge. Snow laces the ledge soaking into my shoes. I gulp, sitting heft way out the window as I hug it for strength. Without a second though, I step out completely and slowly shut the window. The moment the window closes, a guard slugs into the room sleepily. I press my self against the wall, breathing shakily as he obliviously passes by the window where I stand just outside. Slowly, using what grip I can get on the wall, I start inching my way across the snowy ledge.

"Strange, I thought you were afraid of heights." A voice hisses in my ear. I jump, nearly loosing my footing as I claw at the wall. Shaking slightly, I look over to see the iridescent figure of Bob who's floating carelessly in the air.

I narrow my eyes at him darkly, "Bob, what the fuck? You could have killed me!" I hiss, hearing my heat beat erratically in my ear.

Bob smirks, placing his hands behind his head lazily. "Relax bitch. I told you you'd die in three months. You still have another month." He said, reminding me of my untimely fate.

I sigh, shaking my head dismally. "You can't wait, can you?" I mutter, starting to inch my way towards the fire escape.

"No, I can't. The wait is _killing_ me. Hahaha!" Bob chuckles, laughing at his own macabre joke.

I roll my eyes. "Good to see your humor didn't die with you." I comment sarcastically, shivering slightly from the snow soaking into my shoes.

Bob stops laughing, tooth fully smiling at me. "And I see your sarcasm has been given a boost." He remarks.

"Tou shaé." I add, pausing slightly, "And it was you who was afraid of heights, not me." I glance over at him, smirking slightly.

Bob crosses his arms, "No, remember back at JROTC? When we went on that obstacle course and you froze at the top of the tower?" he explains, floating closer to me.

"I didn't freeze; I was waiting for my team to regroup." I reply stubbornly, continuing to slide across the ledge carefully.

Bob rolls his eyes, unconvinced. "Yeah, yeah…whatever. I still believe I beat you in everything there." He boasts, smirking triumphantly.

I roll my eyes. Ever since my time in the JROTC with Bob, he had always tried to better me in everything. Though he always feel a few points behind me in school work and leadership skills (OK, he fell way behind in leadership seeing how he couldn't lead himself out of a paper bag), we were neck in neck for weapon accuracy and physical endurance. But of course, neither of us could contend in sharp shooting with Alex. That boy has a gift and a damn good one at that.

I shake myself from the memory trip, glancing at Bob skeptically, "Wait, did you say you believe you beat me? Please, we were tied. Plus Alex had us beat in sharp shooting." I state sharply, carefully crossing in front of a darken window.

Bob's bloody red eyes roll up to the sky, "Sure, whatever you say Miss leader-whose-afraid-of-heights." He murmurs, though eh doesn't continue on the subject. Even Bob recognized Alex's skill. But Bob, being the stubborn person he is (was), couldn't come right out and say Alex was better than him. The fact that someone betters Bob at something just never sat well in him. He always tries bringing them down, like he did with Alex. Honestly, it was pathetic. But that's Bob for you.

Finally I arrive at the fire escape. The cold iron structure greets me with a quiet squeak when I step onto it. My no gloved hand brushes the iron, sending shivers up my arm. I descend the stairs, trying my best to quiet the noisy vibrations from my steps as I go along. Bob stands by the drop down ladder to the alley below, his cold eyes watching me. "I wouldn't put you on the top of the list as silent ninja assassin with the amount of noise you've made." He comments crudely.

I send him a dark look before I turn my nose up and mount the ladder. The weight of my body causes the ladder to slowly slide down slightly with a chorus of rusty metal rubbing against each other loudly. I wince at the sound before climbing down the slippery ladder, being careful not to miss a step. "Erin." A voice calls, floating down to me. When I look up, I'm face to translucent face with Bob. "Don't fall." He warns, holding back his laugh at my obvious petrified look. I shake my head, going to step down. But there's no step and my other foot slips, leaving me dangling y my hands. My eyes search the ground impatiently for a soft landing. I gulp, not finding one as I feel my hands slipping. In the end, my fingers slip and I plummet to the ground below. But luckily, the recent snow fall yields a field of soft snow for my landing. I lay there, pain shooting up my spine from the impact. Snow slips down my collar, causing me to shake uncontrollably. But the near death experience is what has gotten me to shake the most. Bob manifests next to me, smiling crookedly, "Didn't I tell you not to fall?" he chastises sarcastically.

I groan, giving him a death glare. "Shut. Up." I spat. Slowly, I stagger up, shaking the snow off my coat. I glance up, gazing at the 3rd story window where I had originally stepped out from. It takes a few minutes to register in my mind that I had made it down. I shake my head in disbelief before a victorious smile glows on my face. I turn my radio back on, trying hard not to laugh as I hear Anatoly question my status. "Anatoly, guess what. I told you I could make it. Guess I told you so!" I utter in a sing-song voice.

There's a sigh of relief on Anatoly's end, "Yeah, I guess you did. Though I must admit, I wasn't planning on saying 'I told you so' if you didn't make it." He replies truthfully.

I smile slightly, nodding in reply though I know he can't see the gesture. Bob shakes his head, disappearing before I could question his action. I shrug slightly, slowly starting down the deserted alleyway. Innocent snow flakes flutter from the sky, mixing with the tainted souls of their kin on the slushy ground. I shiver slightly, pulling my coat closed around me. The street lights mixed with passing car head lights illuminate the desolate alleyway enough for me to see my way. A lone car sits idly just up ahead, out of view from the Russian night life. I approach it silently, checking around for any witnesses before I tap lightly on the window. From inside, a man jolts awake and stares at me, slightly disorientated from his sleep. But he composes himself, unlocking the door lazily. I slide into the back seat, letting the door slam shut behind me. The car's interior is cool black leather, causing shivers to run up my spine.

The man looks back at me from his seat as the driver. "So, what's happened?" he questions smoothly, taking a puff from a cigar.

A soft smile crosses my face, "The deal's been set, Langley." I reply, taking the cigar from my Russian acquaintance. I inhale the taste of the tobaccos smoke before letting out a ring of smoke.

Langley gives a sigh of relief, "That's good." He mutters his tone full of guilt.

I raise an eyebrow at his tone, leaning forward in my seat. "You didn't think it'd happen, did you?" I state firmly, calling him out.

Langley tenses, avoiding my prying eyes. "I didn't want it to happen." He admits, resting his head on his hand.

"Don't let Makarov hear that. You know as well as I he has no patience for loose cannons." I warn, flicking the ash from the cigar in his direction.

Langley glares at me, "Fuck you. You should know he doesn't like having a loose end like yourself around either." He snaps sharply.

I blink, his harsh words slicing me deep. Wordlessly, I take another drag from the cigar before speaking. "Don't you think I know that?" I answer spitefully, my dark brown eyes burning into Langley's blue eyes.

He sighs, scratching the back of his neck in guilt. Langley opens his mouth to say something but closes it, knowing he can't come up with anything to mop up what he said before.

I hand the cigar back to him quietly. He takes it graciously, adding to the silence that hung in the air. A sudden tap on the window causes us both to jump. I whip out my hand gun, pointing it towards the window in defense. Langley peeks out, giving a sigh of relief. "It's only them" he assures me.

With a nod, I slip my weapon back into its concealed location on my belt. Langley opens the door and the three men slide in. Ivan and Anatoly accompany me in the back and Makarov rides shot gun. With out a word, Langley starts the car and we slip into the stream of cars unnoticed. I sigh, staring out the window sadly. _What the hell kind of tangled mess have you gotten yourself into, Erin?_ I berate myself mentally.

Author's note: Miss me? Haha, it's been so long since I've last touched this story. I'm not going to lie and say I was working on it 24/7. Homework and other school functions have killed most of my writing time. My only saving grace was standardize testing, where I was able to work on this chapter during the breaks. I am sorry for having to keep you all waiting. But rest assures, I haven't given up on this just yet and I will continue it.

Thank you to all you who continue to hold on to this story. I appreciate each and every one of your reviews. I especially thank Brad for the suggestion of including the JROTC in the story. :) It really helped.

Hopefully I can start back into the habit of adding to the story everyday. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please rate and review~


	32. Expendable

'Expendable'

Three months later, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Makarov's terrorist group

Moscow, Russia

The house creeks slightly, giving a break to the silence that plaques it's insides. I sit in a soft chair, facing a window to the outside in the living room. Langley sits opposite me, while Ivan stands off center. After everything that has happened, Makarov has finally won. At this moment, he, Anatoly and Viktor are on their way to some missile base to set off the lethal missile. I didn't bother asking where because of two reasons: One because they won't tell me and two because I simply don't care. "What's going to happen after all this?" Langley asks, breaking the silence. He looks from me to Ivan doubtfully.

Ivan sighs, scratching the back of his head. "We lie low for a bit, then get back to business." He answers negatively, shaking his head dismally.

Langley sighs irritably, "Same shit, different day." He growls, crossing his arms against his chest.

I look up at him emotionlessly, "What do you think was going to happen? We'd go our separate ways and live happily ever after? Fuck no; life doesn't work out that way." I grumble, resting my head on my hand lazily. My piercing eyes burn into Langley's sky blue eyes.

He opens his mouth to respond. But a lone bullet crashes through the window, silencing Langley permanently. I dive to the floor, taking cover on one side of the window. My eyes fall onto Langley, blood seeping from the fatal gunshot wound to his head. I let out a shaky breath, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. Ivan skids into the cover on the opposite side of the window, passing me an AK-47. I peek out the window before ducking my head back in cover as another shower of bullets rip through the window. "Fuck! Can you see them?" I shriek, blind firing out the blown out window.

Ivan shakes his head, joining me in my blind fire fight. I quickly load another mag into my gun, swearing loudly underneath my breath. "We need back up, like seriously." I comment impatiently. I unclip the brick bulk of a radio from Ivan's belt as he continues firing. The radio buzzes to life and I radio to Makarov's receiver. "Raven, this is home base, we're under attack! Please respond!" I shout into the radio. "Do you read me? We need help, Langley's down! For the love of God, Please respond!" I plead into the radio for aid. But no one answers, leaving only a bland buzz sound to dampen my hopes.

"Don't waste your breath; they're not going to help us." Ivan growls, breaking into my thoughts.

I stare up at him, my face full of genuine fear. "W-what? Ivan, what are you talking about?" I question rushed, my eyes darting from him to the unresponsive radio.

Ivan takes cover; avoiding another on slant of bullets. He slaps the used mag from his weapon angrily. "Erin, we're expendable. We've been expendable from the very beginning. You know that as much as I do. Langley knew that too. And it looks like we've just been expended." Ivan reports grimly, reloading another mag into his gun before starting to blind fire out the window.

Ivan's words hit me hard, knocking the wind right out of me. I breathe slowly, my eyes staring at the ground blankly. Though it's hard to accept, I know Ivan was right. Hell, I had told myself this day was going to come. I knew this was going to happen as soon as I entered this dance with the devil known as Makarov. But now, as death looms so close I can literally taste it-I am scared. I shake myself from my pessimistic thoughts.

_Death will consume you._

I close my eyes, letting out a long pent up breath.

_So you haft to look it in the eyes_

The fear of death slowly drains away from my psyche.

_And bear your teeth._

Without a second to contradict this thought, I start blind firing out the window aggressively. If I was going to die, I figure I might as well take some poor bastard with me. Out of the blue, a frag breaks through the window, landing in between Ivan and I. Suddenly, it's like everything has slowed down. I try to dive out of range of the explosives but it's no use for it explodes before I can react.

Shrapnel rips into my side, blinding pain following immediately after. I fall onto my injured side, cringing at the pain as blood gushes from the wound. Weakly, I raise my head as my hurtful eyes fall onto Ivan. The shrapnel had hit him square in the chest, knocking him onto his back. He gasps for breath, blood gurgling from the wound like a bloody faucet. Ivan's eyes connect with mine, death fogging over his gaze. "T-this is…i-it. K-karma's a-a….bitch." he gasps out, gritting his teeth at the severe wound in his chest.

I blink back the pained tears as they threaten to spill. "What do you mean by that?" I ask.

"I-I helped…destroy L-Langley's village. M-Makarov ordered m-me too…I-I knew it would come back…to h-haunt me-" he replies but is cut off by a bout of bloody coughs. Eventually, the light disappears from his eyes and that's when I know he's gone. I continue to fight back the tears as the realization of a lonely death hits me. Rolling waves of ache hit my side as a pool of blood forms under me. _T-this is it…_ I fall onto my back, staring up at the ceiling as my mind recedes into nothingness. A feeling of numbness hits me. The feeling makes me almost miss the pain.

With what little feeling I have left, I pull my phone from my pocket. I click to send a message, clicking a rough draft I had saved for this moment. _'Jasmine, it is time to shine the light on the dark force. I throw the torch to you. I wish I could have been there but I'm afraid it is not to be. Yes, this text means I didn't make it. Don't cry, think only of revenge. The time is right…Goodbye my friend,' _Reads the text. I send it, letting the phone slip out of my limp grasp. As the pain overcomes me, my eyes weigh heavy and I don't protest. I know this is it; Karma has finally come for me. _Ghost…My friends. I-I'm so sorry…_

Bob manifests, kneeling next to me. A smug smile blurs on his face, his dark eyes looking down at me pleased. "Your 3 months are up bitch, it's time for you to go." He said, laughing heartily.

I grit my teeth, closing my eyes. "N-no…not yet." I stutter through the short breaths I take to minimize the pain.

The ghostly figure of Bob raises an eyebrow, "What? What do you mean…" he asks, trailing off.

I ignore his question, slowly working my painful body up into a sitting position. The fiery pain screams out at me for my action but I do my best to try and disregard it. Slowly, I crawl to Langley's soulless body and pull a hand gun off of him. My eyes fall onto his face, his eyes staring unblinking up to the ceiling. Anger coasts through my veins. _How the fuck could they do that do Langley! I'll kill them all for this, I surely will… _Bob floats nearby, a dull expression on his face. "You're thinking of going down in a blaze of glory, aren't you? PF, have fun with that." He remarks, disappearing through the wall.

Slowly, I rise to my feet and limp to the hallway. On the way, I pass Ivan's corpse and another lap of rage hits me. _Ivan… _I take cover behind the wall in the hallway, my head peeking out into the living room as I await our attackers. Blood continues to gush from the wound and I try my best not to scream at the intense hurt. I hold my side as a burst of pain hits my side. Suddenly I get light headed and I lean back against the wall. I shut my eyes, waiting for it to past. It eventually does, though I know it's only a matter of time before I'm fully out for the count.

I hear an explosion rip through the front door. Two pair of footsteps follows into the house, splitting off from each other. One goes to the front and the other slowly closes in on my position. Silently, I ready myself for them as I cock my gun softly. _Just a few more steps._

"Watch yourself, I think one's hiding-" a British voice calls out from the front room. But I don't let him finish the warning, instead choosing to jump out of my hiding spot. I aim to kill the unsuspecting attacker. Though I shoot, I must have missed. For in a flash, I'm on the ground with my pistol turned against me. Pain burns hot white inside me as I can't help but let out a small yelp. Through my blurred vision, I see my attacker's face.

I blink before a weak smile spreads across my paling face. "Hello…Mr. Leprechaun." I greet dully to the Scottish captain known as Mactavish.

Author's note: This is the chapter I've been working up to. The start of something great that will end in a bang! Oh and there's a reference in here about a possible new fanfic topic for me. ;)  
Haha, hope you all (who still read this) enjoy it. So…let the games begin.

Please rate and review.


	33. Revelations

'Revelations'  
Three months latter, Month 4  
Erin Tanili  
Makarov's terrorist group  
Moscow, Russia

Mactavish's harden gaze breaks, shocked confusion taking over his face. "Jesus-Erin?" he breathes, staring down at me, "I thought you were dead!"

I wince, smiling sheepishly, "Haft way there is more like it." I mutter in respond.

He shakes his head slowly, the shock still set firm in his face. "Why the hell did you try to kill us?" he asks seriously, glaring down at me slightly annoyed.

"_You_ started the fire fight. I was just returning the favor. Besides, you threw a fucking grenade at me!" I state testily, cringing at the pain in my side at my raise in volume.

Glancing at my wound, his eyes reflect remorse for his action that brought it to be. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you." He replies quietly, handing me my gun back. I take it gingerly in my hand, looking at it in contemplation. But the rage within me has disappeared and I can't bring myself to shoot my old friend.

I let it skid across the floor, my dark eyes looking up at the Scottish captain. "An eye for an eye, huh?" I mumble quietly, taking in a sharp intake of breath as the pain reminds me curtly of its presence.

Mactavish takes notice of this, shaking his head sorrowfully. "We need to get you out of here." He states firmly, holstering his gun before he moves to help me.

"Mactavish, don't help her. Don't forget _she_ betrayed us." Growls a gravelly British voice. It takes me a few seconds to register the new voice, but when I do I know its Price.

The younger Scotsman glares at the older Brit in apathy. "You're not suggesting we just leave her here to die, are you?" he asks, anger flaring in his low accented voice.

Price walks up, nodding shortly. "That's what I'm suggesting. She's not going to make it anyway." He said negatively as he ignores my presence.

I roll my eyes, smirking darkly. "It's good to see you to, Price." I remark with light sarcasm dripping in my words.

The older man sends me a look of indifference, finally acknowledging me. "I wish I could say the same." He snarls. I wince slightly, feeling his harsh resentment towards me well.

With a sigh, I shudder from the pain. "Oh don't be so negative. Besides, last time I checked you guys were higher up on the list of most wanted criminals than I or Makarov. Heh, even he got a kick out of that." I laugh, before it turns into violent coughs laced with blood.

Price shakes his head, "So our truth is lost…." He remarks cynically, walking away.

"I wouldn't say that…" I reply slyly, a devilishly smile playing on my lips as I try my best to ignore the pain in my side.

The British captain stops, turning haft way back to me. "What do you mean by that?" Mactavish asks slowly as Price walks back slowly.

I let out a long out take of breath, smirking up at the two captains. "I've had a change of heart, a revelation if you will. You want intel on Makarov, I have it." I reply back weakly, grinning, "Are you interested?"

"Why should we believe anything you have to say? It'll probably just lead us into a trap-" Price growls, crossing his arms as he's not in the mood for games.

I let out a short laugh, wincing slightly. "Price, does it really look like I'd lie to you in the position I'm in? Besides…" I explain, frowning, "If I don't have long, I want to at least do something right."

Price sighs, looking down at me solemnly, "Alright, fine. What do you got?" he asks, giving in.

A soft smile crosses my face. "Makarov's gone. He's not coming back here. I don't know WHERE, but I know someone who does…the Russian President, Vorshevsky." I clarify. _Makarov, karma's a bitch. She's going to come for you, in the form of these two…too bad I can't be there to witness it._

"Vorshevsky? Wait, was Makarov just a pawn of his…" Mactavish asks, trailing off as he gets lost in his thoughts.

I shake my head, blinking back the light headed feeling I get. "More like Vorshevsky is Makarov's. Makarov needs money, Vorshevsky has it. What does Makarov have? A deadly missile aimed at America. Find Vorshevsky; stop the transfer, Find Makarov." I state, starting to cough violently as my vision darkens.

Price nods, "Looks like we're going to Moscow." He mumbles, walking away.

I smirk, feeling blood trickle down from the corner of my mouth. "So…it will be." I whisper back, as I start to black out.

"Erin…Erin!" Mactavish calls out, worry present in his Scottish accented voice. He moves to help me, but a voice stops him.

"Mactavish, don't help her. She'll be dead soon enough." The British accent of Price lulls in. But Mactavish ignores the older man's warning; instead he picks me up bridal style. I lie limply in his arms, pain charging through me as he shifts me in his arms. "Mactavish, I order you to not-" starts Price, on the verge of a long drawled rant.

"Price, I can't just let her die! I can't loose another from just standing around doing NOTHING!" Mactavish shot back angrily, pain clouding his blue eyes. It's then I black out completely.

* * *

Darkness greets me as I float hazily through my dream of nothing. I shiver, looking around for any light in the void. To my dismay, no light is there to guide me along._ Am I…dead?_ I shake my head, refusing to believe this thought. It's then I feel a sharp pain in my side that sends me tumbling back into reality. I snap my eyes open and grab the figure that stands by my injured side, most likely the cause of the wake up call. My panicked eyes find the ice blue gaze of Mactavish as I come to the recognition of the identity of the figure. I breathe abnormally from the shock, confusion washing over me. The pain in my side quickly steps in, over taking the feeling of alarm. I cringe, letting go of Mactavish. "What-the fuck?" I gasp out, closing my eyes in pain.

Mactavish pushes me down softly, "Lie down and try not to move so much. I'm trying to remove the shrapnel from your wound." He orders delicately, picking up a set of twisters that I had most likely knocked out of his hand from my flailing. Mactavish starts to pick at a dark piece of shrapnel from my side, tugging at it. I feel it in its entirety, shuddering as I place a hand over my eyes to avoid the sight.

A familiar figure joins Mactavish at my side. "Well, isn't that a pain in the side." He comments in his deep Russian accent.

I remove my hand from my eyes and smile halfheartedly at the friendly Russian, Nikolai. "Yeah, a-ain't it?" I reply weakly.

Nikolai smiles at me before looking at Mactavish seriously. "We'd best get her to hospital soon, I don't think white is her normal color." He states gravely.

A sigh is omitted by Mactavish, "I know. I'll go get Price. Watch her for me, will you?" the Scotsman utters, standing up and walking off. My eyes stare after him as he disappears into the house, and then back to the current place I'm located. I glance around, my eyes finally registering the small inside of a helicopter.

A frown paints across my lips as I look over at Nikolai. "Nikolai…Where's Ghost?" I question, my brown eyes staring at Nikolai intently.

Nikolai sighs, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His dark eyes steer clear of my gaze. "Erin…I'm so sorry." He mutters, pausing, "But Ghost….he's dead. He was killed by Shepard-" But by then, I've stopped listening. His words crash into me, halting my thoughts in an instance. I feel my breath get caught up in my throat as the reality of Ghost's death comes into focus. Tears escape my eyes as I try to blink them away to no avail. _Fuck, I should have warned him…I FUCKING should have! Ghost-no…_

I gasp out, trying to regain my breathing but I can't get a grasp of it as I suddenly start convulsing uncontrollably. Nikolai swears under his breath. He leans out the heli, "Mactavish, Price! We've got a problem!" he calls out, terror rising in his thick Russian accent.

"What's happened Nikolai?" Mactavish's voice calls back.

"It's Erin, She's gone into shock!" Nikolai responds, glancing down at me in worry. I gasp out, trying to speak but I can't not matter how hard I try. Pain tears at my side brutally as I continue to shiver uncontrollably.

Mactavish appears at my side in an instance, his blue eyes reflecting great concern as he tries to mask it with a clam smile. "Don't worry Erin; you're going to be OK. I promise you that." Mactavish comments quietly, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. I can see the pain in his eyes, how they almost plead for me to hang in there. The comment, the promise, it isn't just for my sake; but for him too. If I had the strength to, I'd smile at him to let him know I understand. Mactavish steps back and the fear of being alone hits me, causing a feeling of hollow sadness grow in my stomach. I reach out for him, for some sense of comfort. But Mactavish has disappeared out the heli. "PRICE, we've got to go! Get your arse out here!" I hear Mactavish order from outside. Nikolai starts up the helicopter as Mactavish joins me by my side. The smell of burning wood wafts in as Price jumps into the shot gun seat. No doubt, he set the house on fire to mask what occurred there. But at this moment, I really didn't care. Mactavish puts pressure on my side, trying to stop the bleeding as he looks to Nikolai. "Nikolai, get us to the nearest hospital stat!" he instructs sharply.

Nikolai nods, lifting the helicopter off the ground and starting off. Weakly, I look up at Mactavish as weakness plagues my once confident auburn eyes. Tears sprinkle my cheeks. "M-Mactavish…"I spoke with little strength.

Mactavish looks down at me with the mention of his name. "Hang on Erin, just hang on!" he pleads, gripping my shoulder.

Slowly I shake my head. "I-I'm sorry…f-for everything." I breathe, letting out a shaky breath.

"No, no don't talk like that! You're going to be just fine!" Mactavish protests, though his eyes show sad realization. I see the pain reflected in his eyes as he closes his eyes. "I can't loose anyone else…I promise you'll be OK." He whispers, sadness played in his voice. His hand falls from my shoulder limply, looking away.

When I find his head, I grab it weakly and give it a small squeeze. "D-don't promise I-I'll be OK…promises a-are meant to be broken. J-just stop…Makarov f-for me." I murmur before my eyes close and my head rolls to the side in submission. My grasp of his hand eventually weakens, slipping from it wordlessly.


	34. To hell and back

'To hell and back'  
Three months latter, Month 4  
Erin Tanili  
Rogue  
Some Hospital in Asia

White, blinding lights greet my weak eyes. My vision comes in and out, seeing people gathered around me as they work on my side before my vision blacks out again

Black, nothingness… _Am I dead?_

I hear my name being called softly, coaxing my eyes to open. Darkness sits blandly before me as my eyes search for the source of the voice. A lamp in the corner illuminates the room just barely, aiding my search. Eventually, my eyes fall upon a figure sitting at the side of my bed. His eyes brighten as he sees I'm awake. "Good to see you still in the land of the living, my friend." His Russian laced voice quietly comments.

I groan pathetically. My eyes blink, looking to see where Mactavish stood. To my dismay, I don't see him-or Price for that matter. Not that I really care about Price. _That dick face. _I roll my head over to loo at Nikolai. It takes a few seconds for my mouth to spit out words and when it does, they come out weak. "Where…are they, Nikolai?" I ask softly, feeling my eye lids grow heavy.

A frown falls on Nikolai's face, glancing at the door quickly. "They've gone to Moscow, to stop him." He states vaguely, though I know 'he' is Vorshevsky and in the process, they'd try to stop Makarov. But knowing Makarov, he'd slither away before the captains could even come close to king him. _Makarov, you're always three moves ahead aren't you?_

I look up at the ceiling, feeling my life slowly slipping away. Mactavish and Price would stop Vorshevsky, Shepard's persecution would start-_everything falls into place. But_, a frown paints across my lips; _an evil man still slips between the shadows unscathed by it all_. _Makarov, your time will come. I swear it will._ Gradually my eye lids close on my auburn eyes. "Nikolai. T-tell them I'm sorry." I murmur, my head rolling to the side. Faintly I hear my heart monitor start flat lining.

"Erin…? Wait, no, don't-" he starts, dashing out of the room to get a doctor. It's no use though, for I feel death pick me up in his arms and take me away.

* * *

I open my eyes, fatigue gone from my eyelids. My side lulls quietly, absent of any pain. My eyes canvas the endless void I float in, whiteness embracing me. But I'm alone and I wonder if this is heaven. I shake my head, feeling a lack of closure or complete peace. "To answer your question, this isn't heaven. It's purgatory." Answers a familiar voice next to me.

Startled, I jump away from the sudden prescience of another here with me. My eyes fall upon the familiar appearance of Bob, though he's less ghostlike. "Purgatory?" I ask, my eyes glancing the whiteness in interest, "What's that?"

"Basically it's a waiting area." States another voice as a young man appears next to man. His eyes reflect calm oceans as he smiles at me softly. There's something about this new arrival that peeks my interest for he seems oddly familiar.

I point at him, "Have we met?" I ask slowly, waiting for his answer.

A light smirk plays across his lips as he scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, we have. Don't you remember, back in Brazil? We started out on a bad foot…where I climbed in to have a gun pointed at my face." He explains.

My eyes lock with him, shock present in my dark eyes. "Oh yeah, Roach, right? It's good to see you-well not in the after life, that is." I said, laughing nervously. Suddenly, sadness hits me as the carefree smile slips from my face. "Roach, where is he? Where's Ghost?" I inquire seriously.

Roach blinks, shrugging. "You know, now that you mention it…I haven't seen him." He trails off, gazing down at the ground in deep though, "Fucking Shepard betrayed us. I hope Price and Mactavish know-"

"They do, Roach, and it's been taken care of." I reply lightly, sighing.

Roach looks at me stunned. "He's dead? Shepard's dead?" he questions, happiness rising in his eyes.

I nod silently, gazing across the white abyss as other souls appear and fill the void. Roach continues to talk, but I tune him out as I search the faces for that one face that I need to see. _Ghost, where are you? _After my search through the different, confused faces, I come up with a startling epiphany. "H-he isn't here." I whisper, turning sharply to Roach, "Ghost isn't here, that must mean he's alive! Oh-oh yes!" I cheer loudly, tears of happiness filling my heart as I hug myself.

Roach blinks before breaking out into a wide grin. "Yeah, I guess so. Guess the man upstairs had other plans for him." He said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

Unexpectedly, a feeling of purpose fills me as my smile drops. "I got to go back," I state firmly, looking from Roach to Bob, "There's still things undone, people to stop-Makarov!" I clench my hands into fists of rage when Makarov's name slips from my lips. _No, I can't let you win Makarov. Not after all that's happened._

Bob smirks, grasping my arm tightly. "Yeah, yeah. I know. You got to save the world. Don't' get all 'heroic monologue' on me." He replies sarcastically, though a small smile finds its way to his face.

Roach grabs my other arm, squeezing it gently. "Tell them all hi for me." He whispers, looking over at Bob seriously as he nods.

I blink, looking from the two men in puzzlement as they hold each of my arms in their grasps. "Um. What are you guys doing?" I ask, my auburn eyes gazing up at them for an answer.

"Sending you back." Roach states shortly, stepping forward with Bob.

My eyes widen, looking from Roach to Bob. "Can you do that? I thought this was it that I was supposed to die! That's why you said yourself Bob." I stumble through my words as they get ready to catapult me.

Bob glances at me through his red eyes, smirking playfully. "You're here, aren't you? Meaning you did die. I never said nothing about staying dead." He responds, riddles playing in his words.

My mind takes a second to understand what he said before I look up and smile softly at Bob. "Thanks Bob. You know, you're not such a bad guy. Guess being dead must have changed that." I said.

A grin reflects on Bob's face. "Yeah…guess it did. Good luck kid, and hope you enjoy the ride." He murmurs, squeezing my arms in assurance.

Abruptly, Bob and Roach throw me into what at first seems to be a wall. A scream escapes my lips but it's abruptly silenced as I slip through the wall uninjured. I tumble through darkness, feeling a mysterious force drag me down like a vacuum. The sheer force is frightened and I fear of what will happen once I meet the focal point of this force. I squeezes my eyes shut, waiting for the end. Then, it ends-with a soft landing. Which is not what I had thought would have happened. But truth be told, I'm not complaining.

My eyes open to darkness, causing me to gasp out in panicked confusion as my eyes dart around for any source of light. But as my head does the jerky moment, it moves the darkness. I realize then that the darkness is a sheet draped over me. With this realization, I let out a shudder of a breath. My heart beats in my chest, sounding strange to my ears.

_I'm back, _is the only thought that runs through my head. Slowly I sit up, letting the death sheet fall from my vision. The shock of this all still holds me tight as I regularize my breathing pattern. I glance at my location, realizing I'm not in my hospital room anymore. It seems I've been moved to a deserted hallway where the only other objects in the hall are gurneys. But I know, gulping nervously, that the other gurneys hold empty vessels of former souls. I look away from the gurneys, gazing at the ground as a thought rolls into my mind. _How long have I been out? _Then I realize something that snaps me out of my stupor. _Ghost, he's alive. T-then that means he's OK! _I smile, delicate happiness washing over me.

But it quickly washes away as I remember the current dilemma that faces me. I know that, as much as I want to go find Ghost, there are other things that need to be done. Especially dealing with a certain Russian. I sigh, closing my eyes as my heart thuds painfully in my chest with this decision. _I will find you Ghost…I promise._ My eyes open again, determination glinting in my dark eyes. _So it begins._

Author's note: Why yes, I did just do that.

I'm sorry; I just couldn't let Ghost die that easy. Come on, he's fricking Ghost-he can survive anything dammit!

The next chapter will be up shortly.


	35. Dead on Arrival

'Dead on Arrival'

Three months latter, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Rogue

Some Hospital, Asia

As I sit on my gurney, I understand what needs to be done now: Get the hell out of dodge. Dodge, meaning the hospital. I carefully place my feet on the ground, putting most of my weight on my weak legs. The sudden change causes my knees to buckle slightly. Luckily I grab the gurney before I can collapse onto the ground. I slowly start regaining the work of my legs, starting down the hall. But I stop, noticing a metal tin sitting on the bottom of my gurney. Inside of it, sits some of my personals the docs had most likely taken off of me. I grab all I can place in my pocket before going on about my way. My side's pain has died down; only a numb tug is felt as I strain my side to continue my prowl. I slide through an open door, a locker room coming into focus. Nonchalantly, I start rooting around for clothes. It seems the only original pieces of clothing that was left on me was my shoes, pants and under garments. As much as the hospital gown is 'fashionable', it's not really good for blending in to a crowd. Eventually, I find a sleeveless black hoodie with two horizontal blue stripes across the front. I slip it on and zip it up haft way, flipping the hood onto my head.

Without a second glance, I stalk out of the room and into the bright day. I look up, shielding my eyes from the blinding morning sun. A frown plays on my lips as I survey my new surroundings. From what I can gather-which isn't much seeing as every sign is in some kind of Chinese kanji- is that I'm somewhere in Asia. _Well that's just fucking brilliant._ With a huff, I sit down on a bench. I grumble obscenities as I fumble out a cigarette from the packet that I had luckily grabbed from my personals tin set by the medical staff. But when I pat myself down for my lighter, I realize how quickly luck can displace its self. _Well ain't this just a lovely start to the day. I'm somewhere in fucking Asia and I can't light up-Awesome. _During my sarcastic thought monologue, a man joins me on the bench. I don't acknowledge him fully, as I'm cautious to whom this mysterious person is.

My eyes glance at him, "Hey, gotta light?" I ask, trying to sound innocently though it sounds down right pathetic to my ears.

The man smirks, producing a metal lighter fluidly from his pocket. "I do have one." He answers, flipping the top opening.

I smile, leaning forward and cupping the light around the butt of the cigarette. When it catches, I lean back and inhale the calming sensation of the tobacco as it absorbs into my lungs heavenly.

The man shakes his head as he snaps the lighter closed. "Those things will kill you, you now." He comments, a slight accent coming through in his words.

I shrug, not really in the mood to hear the man's preaching of the horrors of cigarettes. _Why the hell do you have a lighter if you don't' smoke? Weirdo. _Besides, smoking isn't the only bad thing I've done. I sigh, breathing out a smoky breath. "Please, I'm already dead." I state sharply, "To the world, that is. Not literally dead."

For a moment, the man is silent. My symbolic words take a few seconds to click in his mind. "What do you mean?" he asks finally, caution in his question.

"I mean I died. But I came back, but no one knows this. So I'm like a ghost, I can like do anything now." I explain dully, smiling satisfied with my last comment as I take a drag from the cigarette.

A smirk crosses the man's face, "I guess we're one in the same then." He remarks softly.

I blink, now looking over at him fully. His sharp green eyes stare deeply into mine. A familiar feeling sets in, as I question this feeling. I shake it off though, smiling kindly at him. "Yeah, I guess we are." I reply quietly. We sit there in silence for what seems like ages. Neither of us makes a comment or a move to leave. I know I have to be going after Makarov, but something keeps me here. Here on this bench with this baffling yet memorable man. I hold the rapidly deteriorating cigarette between my lips as I glance at the man. "You know, I didn't catch your name." I state, finally breaking the silence.

He shifts uncomfortably at this question. "I'd tell you some fake name. But seeing how we're both dead to the world there's no point lying to each other. My name's Simon Riley. Or you can call me Ghost-that's what I was call before I died." He replies nonchalantly.

My heart literally stops, my cigarette falling out of my now agape mouth. My eyes widen. _G-Ghost? _Slowly, I look at him as my mind finally pieces it all together: the piercing green eyes, the British accent, and the metaphors. "G-Ghost?" I choke out. The man, who'd I had wronged, the one I had truly loved, was here. Right next to me in flesh and blood.

Ghost looks at me befuddled slightly, as if I had just confessed I was Chuck Norris. "Yeah, that's my name." he answers slowly.

I shake my head, "No, No! I know you-Ghost it's me!" I cheer, ripping the hood off from my head, "its Erin!" There was a great pause as Ghost's gaze at me slowly morph into stark revelation.

"What-how can this be?" he stutters out, his eyes searching my eyes for an answer.

I smile haft heartily. "Our friendly neighborhood Leprechaun-and Price-saved me from the brink." I explain quietly as some people passed by. My eyes follow them as they continue about unaware of my weary eyes. I run a hand through my hair, looking away in shame of being so paranoid.

Ghost blinks, "Mactavish, Price? Where are they now?" he asks with a rush, avoiding the question of how I got to the 'brink.'

I sigh, "They're on their way to Moscow, to stop Vorshevsky from transferring money to Makarov. Also, to find out where he is." I reply flatly, glancing at him as I wait for him to ask the obvious question.

"Why didn't you tell them where he is?" Ghost asks, bitterness hiding in his calm voice.

I roll my eyes, laughing slightly. "Why do you assume I know?" I remark sourly.

Ghost shakes hi head, folding his arms across his chest. "He's your partner in crime, isn't he?" he said shortly. The pain of my betrayal sounds loudly from his words. It's like being burned by an iron: you learn not to trust the thing even when it's unplugged.

I sigh; my eyes soften as I look away. "It was at that point Ghost that I had become expendable-I was the moment I started with him. But I guess it did have some benefits." I remark off handily, thinking of all the Intel on Shepard's betrayal I had gotten.

Ghost's green eyes snap to me. "Let me guess, he let you sleep in his bed like a good dog." He snipes, venom dripping in his words.

I wince at his tone, my dark eyes glower at him with indifference. "You make me out to be such a bad person, Ghost. It really hurts me to hear you say such things. Just because I was stuck in a house with all guys doesn't mean I'd go sleeping around." I retort lightly, trying to brush off his brash words.

He scoffs, "Yeah, you're a fucking angel." He grumbles sarcastically.

I scoot over to him, tilting my head up to him. "I'm a fallen angel, so what? Everyone falls sometimes." I whisper, placing a hand on his leg delicately, "But that doesn't mean we can't pick ourselves up and start again."

Ghost looks at me, his eyes clouded with a mix of feelings from hate to heart ache. He glances away in distaste, his eyes falling on a police cruiser as it drives into the parking lot slowly. I follow his gaze, watching the cop step out from the car lazily. My hand squeezes Ghost's leg, feeling tension growing in me. Ghost brings his head close to mine, "No sudden movements. When he's gone, we'll leave for my hotel room-we have a lot to catch up on." He whispers into my ear.

I nod, not being able to pick out what emotion is held in his words. My forehead rests against his shoulder as a sudden wave of faintness hits me. _Probably just the medication wearing off._ If only I'd known better.

Author's note: I don't really like how the last paragraph came out. It just seems too rushed. *shrug* Ah well, one day when (if) I have time-I'll rewrite this story to make it better.

Please rate and review


	36. Those three words

'Those three words'

Three Months later, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Rogue

Ghost's hotel

Ghost opens the door to his hotel room, glancing around the small hallway quickly, before entering. I follow after him into the darken room, wondering about has him so paranoid. He shuts the door after me, sliding the chain bolt promptly. My eyes squint, trying to see the contents of the room to no avail. "Care to turn the lights on, Edison?" I murmur sarcastically. Ghost flicks on the lights wordlessly. The lights illuminate two beds, one made neatly while the other sits loaded with all kinds of fire arms. I raise an eyebrow at their location on the bed, glancing over at Ghost in interest. "Plan on taking on an army?" I ask jokingly, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

Ghost walks past me, running a hand over the deadly weaponry. "Seeing as I'm dead to the world, it's hard to come upon 'clean' work. The only job I came across that doesn't ask questions, is that of being a hired hit man. I can put my training to something useful…" he explains dully, staring at the guns in a daze.

"How did you make it out Ghost?" I question quietly, my dark eyes gazing at him.

Ghost is quiet for a moment, closing his eyes in thought. Slowly I approach him, caution in each step. "I survived, survived a betrayal. From the one man we laid all our trusts in. He killed my men-he killed Roach!" he growls, his hands clenching into tight fists, "Fuck! Why does it seem like everyone I relied on, ends up betraying me?" Anger flares in his voice, causing tension to rise within me. Out of no where, Ghost turns on me. His hands wrap around my throat, forcing me back against the wall. "Like you…I should kill you for everything you put me through!" he spat, venom drowning his every word.

I gasp out, trying to force his hands out of the death grasp he holds on my neck. But the attempt only causes him to tighten his grip. "G-Ghost please! I never meant to hurt you! I know I should have warned you about Shepard…Hell, I'd go back if I could to do that! I-I'm sorry, for everything!" I choke out painfully, tears seeping up to the top of my eyelids.

Ghost narrows his jaded eyes at me. "Bullshit. You're just making up lies to cover you ass." He seethes, rage lulling in his British accent.

"What use would it be for me to lie to you? God dammit, Ghost! I made mistakes in my past, I know that. I hurt a lot of people that I love-including you. Now I'm making up for lost time. I'm going after Makarov." I cry out, gritting my teeth as I look at Ghost with pleading eyes, "I need you Ghost…to help stop him."

Ghost's grip tightens slightly; as he lets my words sink in. He shakes his head, "How do I know that isn't some trap? You've lied before-and I believed you! Why should I trust you?" he snipes sourly.

I sigh, looking away for a second before returning my gaze to him. "If you can't trust me, then do what you said you should have done: kill me. Go ahead, just end it. See if you CAN. If you truly have no feelings for me, then just kill me." I said, confidence in my words as my dark eyes stare at Ghost unblinkingly, "But if you do, you won't be able to bring you self to do it. Now, what are you going to do?"

Ghost stews for a moment, before his hands loosen from my neck. Anger still fumes in his eyes as he abruptly slams his fist into the wall right next to my head. I don't wince at the action, gazing up at him in quiet understanding. "I can't do it." He mutters, staring down at me in a shocked daze.

Without a word, I pull him into a tight hug as the tears escape my eyes. I close them, "Ghost. Not a day went by, when I was in that hell hole that I didn't think of you; where you were, if you were alright." I whisper into his ear, trying to disguise the heart ache in my voice.

Ghost slides his arms around me, pulling me close. We stay like this as quietness hangs over us. "I'd be lying if I said I never thought of you." Ghost finally speaks. I blink, smiling softly as tears of happiness run down my face. There are so many things I want to say to him. But all I can think to say is "I love you". But those three words, can say so much.

Author's note: You have no idea, how many times I said 'Aw' when I was writing this chapter. Haha but I'm quite happy with how this came out. I never thought I'd be able to write such a sentimental moment. *cough*

Well the next chapter will be up shortly, seeing as it was technically supposed to be with this part. I just didn't want to ruin the moment. Haha

Please rate and review


	37. Cauterize

'Cauterize'

Three Months later, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Rogue

Ghost's hotel room

A few minutes later, we finally pull out of the hug. Ghost looks down at me, gripping my shoulders lightly. "I got to go get my pay for the week. I'll be back in a couple minutes. Don't open the door for anyone, OK?" he warns, his green eyes connecting with my dark auburn eyes.

I nod, "I under stand. Be back as quick as you can." I reply. _I don't want to be left alone._ I left that thought out of my spoken words, not wanting to look pathetic. Ghost nods as he awkwardly pats me on the shoulder before walking out the door. I sigh, my head dropping down as new found tears find their way to my eyes. The feeling of being alone greets me with a devilish grin, reminding me of past memories of isolation. With a shuddered breath, I sit down on the bed. _I really need to get over this…_The only idea that I can think of to distract me from my loneliness, is the small TV that sits on the dresser in front of me. With a sigh, I flip it on. The familiar moving pictures of The Boondocks Saints appear, causing a smile to slip on my lips. Memories fill my mind of watching this movie with my friends-especially Jasmine who became obsessed with the violent movie series.

A sigh escapes my lips as sadness fills my being. I miss that feeling, that feeling of happiness I always had within me. The only feeling I have now is sadness and paranoid. Something's changed and I know it's because of all that has happened. In a way I almost wish it had been me who died back in Russia; because right now, it feels worst than being dead. Nothing seems to make sense anymore. Why the hell did I go with Makarov in the first place? Maybe I had acted upon impulse, or perhaps the vendetta I had against Shepard blinded me of what my actions. Either way you try to pin it, everything in my life is simply a skewed. _Life is divine chaos_. I understand this quote, which only confirms that my life is indeed chaos.

I stretch my back, when a sudden pain erupts in my side. A gasp of stunned pain escapes of lips as I hold my side in pain. I remove my hoodie, pulling up my shirt to find the supposedly healed wound torn along the stitches. Blood starts to blood out of the abrasion. _Oh, that's not a good sign. _Without a second though, I bound to the bathroom. I pull a white linen towel from the rack, ignoring the avalanche of towels that followed as I hold the towel to my side. The pain receptors in my side, though numbed still from the operation, scream against my action. I wince, gritting my teeth as I stagger out the door of the bathroom and into the main room. My eyes dart to the door, crying out for Ghost to enter and save me. But to my dismay, he doesn't. Tears escape from my auburn eyes. _Ghost please, hurry up! I'm dying over here. _I continue applying the pressure of the towel onto my side, biting my lip to stop myself from screaming out in pain. Slowly I shrink to the floor, my breathing labored. My eyes look up to the TV, _The Boondocks Saints_ movie still playing. An idea hits me as I watch the big battle scene between the brothers, Ringo and the mysterious man, being described by the detective. After the scene, I remember clearly the agonizing process of cauterizing their wounds with an iron. When I pull myself up, I notice an iron sitting on the table a few feet away. I gulp, remembering how the injured boondocks saints had acted in so much pain during the process. But still I walk over, plugging the iron in as I wait for it to heat up. I know I needed someone to hold me down-I need Ghost. Checking the wound, I curse under my breath as I see it continue to bleed erratically. A sound at the door cause me to snap my head in that direction, fear escalating in me as I wonder if the room services' round had found this room next on their lists.

Slowly I inch back, trying to think of a way out of this. Ideas trickle into my mind, but none of them seem to stick. I swear under my breath as the door opens. My breath gets caught up in my throat as I stare over at the opening door like a deer in the headlights. But the person who walks in-Thank God-is not room service or the police but the one man I need the most at this moment. "G-ghost." I hiss quietly, almost as if I feared someone would hear.

Ghost glances at me with his intense green eyes, shutting the door lazily after him. "What's up?" he asks seriously, noting something is off. It's then he notices the towel clutched to my side, "What happened, are you alright?" he questions, bombarding me with questions.

I shake my head, looking at him with a weak smile. "Hey, do you know how to cauterize a wound? Because, we got a bleeder." I reply softly, removing the towel from my side to show him the soaked red blood staining the white towel. Without warning a feeling of light headiness hits me, this causes me to fall to my knees. Ghost is by in seconds, grasping my forearms to keep me from falling further.

"Hey, stay with me OK?" he said, "You're talking crazy. We need to get you to a hospital." Ghost starts to walk over to the phone but I grab him by the wrist, stopping him.

My eyes look up weakly at Ghost, "I'm not talking crazy. I-I'm dead, remember Ghost? If I go back, t-they'll know something's up." I state groggily. My gaze falls on the iron, sitting strikingly on the table. Ghost's green hues follow my gaze, his face dropping.

Ghost shakes his head. "No…no way. Have you ANY idea how excruciatingly painful is it to cauterize a wound? I couldn't bear to see you in such pain. I'm sorry but I can't do it-not to you." He responds sternly.

"Ghost, p-please. It's the only way. I'll die if you don't." I plead, cringing at the pain in my side. "Either you do it, or I'll find someone else to." I grumble my words cold and businesslike.

Ghost sighs irritated, rubbing a hand over his face. He's silent for a second before stalking over to the fridge. I watch him take out a bottle of vodka, questioning his motives. He shoves the cold bottle into my hands, "Alright, I'll do it, but you're going to need this." He gripes disapprovingly.

My eyes fall onto the bottle in my hand. I shake my head in disgust, "I-I can't. I don't drink." I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a pained jumble.

"Well you better start. The alcohol will numb your sense so you won't be in so much pain." Ghost states testily as he checks the iron's heat.

Tears come to my eyes as I'm torn between the two pains-the pain of my side versus the pain of breaking my promise to my sister. I gulp, unscrewing the cap as I decide it's the only way. The strong stench of the vodka hits my nose, causing me to gag slightly. Ghost stares at me, raising an eyebrow at my reaction. "What, didn't you drink over there in Russia?" he asks with a slight annoyance in his voice.

I shake my head, too pained to come up with a snappy come back. "No. I never drank there…I promised my alcoholic sister a long time ago I'd never do this." I respond dejectedly, gazing longingly at the bottle in my hand. Ghost looks away, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. I close my eyes, shaking my head shortly. "Guess I should-would really suit me, right?" I murmur lowly, venom bolded brightly in my words.

Without a second to contradict me, I take a large swig of the vodka. A burning sensation hits my throat as the bitter sweet liquid hits it. I start gagging, the taste almost like rubbing alcohol. It's horrible and I feel it stew in my stomach. A feeling of sickness hits me as I feel I've betrayed one of my last morals. Tears prickle my eyes, slowly overbearing my eyelids, and they trail down my cheek. I shakily raise the bottle back up to my lips, trying my best not to break out into dry heaves. Another sip of the liquid slips past my lips, the taste bitter-completely and utterly bitter. I choke out again, wincing as it cause the muscles in my side to contract and hurt tremendously. With every sip, the bottle becomes heavier and heavier till I'm unable to bring myself to bring it to my lips.

Ghost slides the near empty bottle from my hand, unable to look me in the eyes. Is it just me-or the alcohol that slowly clouds my brain's functions-or does is seem like Ghost is prolonging my pain? Ghost disappears into the bathroom for a second before returning with another towel. He crouches next to me, shaking his head dismally before tying the towel tightly around my mouth and head. I blink, my reactions slowly slowing as I look up at him skeptically. My facial expression must have showed my question clearly, for Ghost answers. "In case you scream. We can't have the security or the police catching on to us." He explains briefly, looking into my eyes, "I'm so sorry Erin." He brushes my bangs to the side, kissing my forehead shortly. By now, the alcohol has taken some-if not all-its effect on me. When Ghost's warm lips touches my cold skin, it sends shivers through me that hit my side brutally.

I give a small muffled cry as I fall onto my uninjured side, curling up into the fetal position as far as my pained and lethargic body would allow. Ghost is now standing over me, iron in hand. His features smeared as my vision starts to blur. Faintly I hear him whisper an apology before I feel the searing pain of the iron on my side.

Author's note: Let me just start off with saying this: I have to be the blondest brunette you'll ever meet. Because serious, I almost put this out with the word 'castrate' instead of 'cauterize'. XD Haha that would have been awkward.

I really hope the whole getting drunk part worked well. Because I honestly don't know how quickly it happens. Lol or would I~

Please rate and review


	38. Our Time is Dwindling

'Our Time is Dwindling'

Three Months later, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Rogue

Ghost's hotel room

A hot iron may hurt like a bitch when you simply accidently brush it and jump back. But to have it held down on your side that has an open wound, that's when it hurts like a mother fucker. My eyes snap open, muffled cries tearing from my lungs as tears sear my eyes. The excruciating pain feels everlasting, as I continue to cry painfully into the gag. Finally my body can't take it anymore and I black out.

* * *

Hazily, I open my eyes. I stare in confusion at the covers placed over me. Apparently while I was blacked out, Ghost had moved me to the unoccupied bed. I roll my head, noticing moment at the other bed. Ghost sits against the bed, cleaning a familiar looking hand gun. He hasn't notice my awareness, staring at the gun in interest. Slowly, I sit up, causing Ghost to snap his attention to me. In a flash he's at my side, gently pushing me back down on the bed. "Hey, don't sit up. The wound is still fresh. Just sleep, you need to get your strength back." Ghost cautions softly, his accented voice lulling. My head nods slightly as my eyelids shut slowly.

* * *

I ease my eyelids open, feeling strength coming back to my once weak state. Ghost has fallen asleep sitting against the opposite bed. My eyes fall upon the side arm he'd been working on as it sits on the bed stand. I push myself up into a sitting position delicately, feeling my side absent of any pain. Quietly, I reach for the pistol and take it in my hands gingerly. The warmth of my hands meets the sharp coldness of the gun's steely frame, causing a sudden shiver to run up my spine. It takes a few turn overs of the weapon in my hands to finally realize where I know this pistol from. My breath gets caught in my throat as I remember how I found this pistol on my persons in the village that Makarov had sent me and my friends to, so long ago. I shake my head shortly, pushing back the memory as I check the chamber. Newly added bullets occupy the originally empty chambers. At the beginning, I had combined the bullets from my friends' pistols. With them, I had a full chamber-until I let a round off one day after being pissed off at Makarov. Then there was the 'celebratory' shot for acquiring the nuke. So I had only three of the five original bullets left. Or, is had been. Two new shinny bullets fill up the empty chambers. They look odd next to the three other dull bullets, almost taunting. I frown, removing the newer bullets angrily and setting them on the night stand. _Only three bullets, I like those odds._ Three, after all, seems to be a lucky number with me. I snap the chamber back, spinning the revolver promptly. A smirk drifts to my face as I imagine Makarov in front of me and I pretend to let off a round-complete with pretend sound effect. I bring the pistol back down onto my lap, the smirk disappearing from my face as I ponder the odds of getting the Makarov. With every passing second, the chance of catching Makarov slims. If I'm to stop him, I'd have to get on the trail-ASAP.

Ghost moves slightly in his sleep, causing my attention to turn to him. His face is screwed up in painful anguish as he mutters something under his breath. His pained look worries me, compelling me to go to him. I tentatively pull myself up off the bed and walk over to Ghost. The expression has changed from pain to fury instantaneously. I sit down next to him, gently resting my head against his shoulder in comfort. Ghost's face calms as his head slumps against my head. A smile appears softly on my lips as I wrap my arms around his arm. For all the times Ghost had been there for me-my shoulder to cry on-now I was able to do the same. I sigh, remembering all the pain I had caused him. My eyes gaze up into his face, calm and serene-and the old heart ache twists dully in my chest. Though I love him, though he makes it out that he does too, I fear we'll never be the same. I ruined something great. A sigh escapes my lips as I look away from the sleeping Brit. The pistol weighs heavy in my hand as I stare down at it dazedly.

Ghost stirs awake, his green eyes glancing down at me as he kisses the top of my head. "Well, good to see you up and about." He mutters against my hair.

I smile softly, "Yeah. How long was I out?" I question, yawning slightly.

Ghost moves, looking down at me oddly seriously. "A month." He states shortly.

I glance up at him, my mouth falling open. "W-what? Oh fuck-" I start, fearing I've missed everything.

Ghost grabs my face, making me look at him; a playful grin rests across his face. "Relax, I'm just joking. You've only been out 6 hours." He reveals, laughing slightly.

My brow furrows as I pout childishly. "Way to freak me out! Jesus." I said, letting out a sigh of relief as I rest my head in his hands.

Ghost brushes my bands to the side, "Sorry, just thought I'd lighten the mood." He remarks.

My dark eyes gaze up at him, "It's cool." I reply. Our eyes connect, as we hold the gaze for a second. Ghost sighs, slipping his hands from my face. I try to rub the blush I held on my face as I break the gaze with him. "So," I start, looking over at Ghost seriously, "When are we going after Makarov?"

Ghost blinks, giving me a skeptical look. "I thought you said you didn't know where he was." Ghost answers.

I nod, glancing at the revolver on my lap. My auburn eyes look back at Ghost. "I don't. But I know someone who does." I omit, smiling confidently as I rise from the ground.

Ghost's eyes follow my action, raising an eyebrow. "Vorshevsky?" he questions.

I shake my head, walking over to the chair where my sweatshirt is draped. "No, his name is Kuchenko. He's an associate of Makarov." I inform him as I slip my arms into the sleeveless hoodie, zipping it up part ways effortlessly.

"What does he have to do with all of this?" Ghost asks confusion still present in his British accent.

I turn to him, a frown sitting on my face. "Kuchenko and some of his associates created a chemical agent mirroring the lethal injection. They manufactured an undetectable missile with said agent." I state, shaking my head sadly, "Makarov has it and by the order of Vorshevsky, he'll send it straight to the heart of the U.S." I check my pistol one last time before placing it behind the belt of my pants. My eyes glance over at Ghost who is now looking at me in stunned silence. "We need to go, Ghost. America is at risk of being annihilated." I dictate, taking a step towards him, "Now, are you with me?"

Ghost blinks before shaking his head of his confusion. He nods, "I guess. Not like I have anything better to do." He states, smirking as he places his sunglasses on in a 'ready to roll' attitude.

I nod, a smug smile crossing my face. "Good. Let's roll." I comment as we set off on out quest to ultimately stop Makarov.

* * *

Author's note: This was one of the hardest chapter's to come up with a title. *shrug* Ah well. Not much to say. But the last couple sentences of the last paragraph, can you say over dramatic? Haha, I personally have to say I laughed at it. Especially since 'Let's roll' is from an inside joke from some other story I wrote. And the slight Hudson (from Black Ops) reference, with the sunglass part-that was random.

Ah, still. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please rate and review.


	39. Gaining Ground

'Gaining Ground'

Three Months later, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Rogue

Irkustk, Siberia, Russia

The car ride to Irkustk is quiet but thankfully not awkward. Ghost drives, his mind set on the road and the directions of the GPS. I sit shot gun, my mind clouded with thoughts of Makarov. _Would Kuchenko talk easy or would he stone wall? How far into def com are we? _So many questions that only Kuchenko could answer.

We arrive in the city and park haft a block from Kuchenko's club. Darkness has fallen upon the city; colored fluorescent lights illuminate the streets as the night crawlers slip in and out of buildings, laughing drunkenly. Ghost cuts the engine, silence crowding the cab of the car. I turn to him, my eyes piercing through the dark to the blob in the dark. "Alright, let me do all the talking. If he hears your accent, he'll get suspicious of our motives." I warn lowly, my eyes glancing across the street at the people walking about, unaware of our presence.

Ghost nods, his eyes canvassing the crowd as well. "Anything else I should know?" he asks without looking at me.

I cough, rubbing my arm awkwardly. "Yeah…it's a gentlemen's club." I said, hinting that there is more.

Ghost's green eyes focus on me, raising an eye brow. "In other words, a strip joint. Anything else?" he remarks neutrally, a hint of disgust evident in the regards to the strip joint.

"Yeah. Kuchenko also thinks me and Makarov are, well-an item." I reveal hesitantly, chancing a look at Ghost.

He's quiet for a second, his eyes glaring at me through the dark. "And, why does he think that?" Ghost questions slowly, trying his best to keep his cool.

I sigh, looking away shamefully. "Because, that was our cover story and Makarov…kind kissed me." I said, muttering the last part in hopes Ghost wouldn't hear.

Ghost's mouth falls agape as he stares at me in slight anger. "He WHAT? And you let him?" Ghost snipes furiously.

I wince at the sudden change in volume. My dark eyes snap to Ghost in a sharp scowl, "It was apparently the only way to confirm our story. I didn't enjoy it-nor do I plan on keeping that charade up." I growl in response, opening my door, "Come on, we've wasted enough time."

"I'm not going." Ghost states shortly. I stop in my tracks, sighing as I close the door.

My eyes look over at him emotionlessly. "What do you mean, you're not going?" I hiss, trying to keep my words calm.

Ghost stares back at me, his gaze hard. "I mean I'm not going-in there, with you. You obviously know exactly what to do, so why do you need me?" he snaps.

I wince, his harsh words hitting me brutally. "Ghost, come on! Don't' do this now. We're so close to getting a lead on Makarov." I reply hotly.

Ghost turns away from me, placing his hands tightly onto the steering wheel. "Get out of the car, Erin." He murmurs, hurt hidden under his stern words.

I blink, confused hurt filling up my face. "Ghost, please. Don't do this! I need you." I plead.

Ghost snaps his head in my direction, "Why would you need me? Sounds like you know exactly what to do!" he scowls stridently.

"Ghost, I-" I start, pain reflected in my dark eyes.

"Just go." Ghost shouts starkly, looking away from me.

I cringe, gazing at him in fear. But I comply, opening the door and exiting the car dismally. Ghost starts the car, speeding off without even looking back. Truly, I was now again alone, abandoned and left to fend for myself in this cold unforgiving world. I gulp, letting this sadness subside for now. _I guess I'm going in alone._ With new found courage, I start towards the club. I know now that I have to do this, even if it means doing it by my self, for I have a mission to do and, with or without Ghost, I'm going to see it through.

The gentlemen's club is hopping with drunken men watching the strippers dance seductively on the stages in front of them perversely. I find the table far away from the dancers unoccupied, and occupy it. It's not long before a decent-but-still-scandalous dressed waitress appears. Her expression, heavily accented by her caked on make-up, shows she's not use to seeing a person of the female persuasion here alone. "How can I help you, ma'am?" She lulls, slight confusion set in her Russian accent.

I glance at her, smiling sweetly, "If you could, I'd like to talk to your boss; one, Kuchenko." I said, putting on my fake Romania accent.

The girl shirts uncomfortably, "Um, I-I don't think so-he's kinda busy-" She stutters out.

I laugh slightly, "Well, I guess I'll just have to wait then." I reply lightly.

The waitress glances around nervously, "Uh, he's not here." She states quickly, tensing up.

My smile slowly fades to a frown as I glare at her. "I highly doubt that," I remark starkly, "Now look here, I'm not here to play this stupid game. You get him here or things will turn ugly." I place my pistol on the table in clear sight of the waitress. My eyes glower darkly at her, threatening her silently.

She gulps nervously, her eyes full of fright as she avoids my piercing glaze. "I-I'll get him right away!" she stammers, turning hell and walking as fast as possible in heels. I smirk, pleased with my 'persuasion' skills and I replace my pistol on my persons.

Shortly after, Kuchenko appears in a fluster, expecting to deal with an unruly drunk but instead finds me. A look of surprise fills his face as he recognizes me. Soon a smile crosses his face. "Rose! Good to see you. Is, Makarov around?" he said, looking around.

I shake my head, crossing my arms. "No, but he is why I'm here. I know you know where he is, Kuchenko. Care to tell?" I state firmly.

Kuchenko blinks, raising an eyebrow in slight confusion. "Yes. I do know. But why is it that you don't? More importantly, why aren't you there with him?" Kuchenko questions.

I sigh, leaning forward and placing my chin on my hand in boredom. My eyes look purposefully at him. "He betrayed me, left me to die. I'm now looking to give him a piece of my mind." I reveal dryly.

Kuchenko blinks, frowning sadly as he shakes his head in disappointment. "He did that? I thought you two had something special…ah well. I'll tell you. He's at an abandoned nuclear launch facility, 13 miles from Moscow. It'll take a good 48 hours to get there. You might want to hurry if you want to catch him before he leaves after the missile launch." He states, writing down the address on a cocktail napkin and passing it to me.

I nod in appreciation, taking the napkin and placing it in my pocket. "Thanks Kuchenko. You have no idea how much this helps." I state, standing up to leave.

Kuchenko nods, a worried look suddenly appearing on his face. "You've got weapons, right? Because he's got that place pretty well guarded." He omits seriously.

I blink, realizing I only had the pistol with the three shots. "Um…I'll figure something out I guess." I mutter, rubbing my arm awkwardly.

The older man shakes his head and motions for me to follow. "Come with me. I have what you need." He said, leading me down the stairs, past the dancers and into a back hallway. He enters room and flicks on the lights, revealing a large room filled with weapons of all sorts. My mouth falls slightly agape as I stare in wonderment at the assortment of weaponry. Though, I shouldn't really be so shocked since it fits Kuchenko's lifestyle. While I was stuck in my shocked stupor, Kuchenko has picked off a dual uzi, ak-47 and another pistol and sets them in a baseball bat bag with amble amount of ammo. I walk over to him, eyeing the bag in interest. Kuchenko zips the bag up and hands it to me. I take it, nearly falling over from the weight of the bag. "Here. This should help you with your reunion. Good luck." He said, nodding at me.

I look at him suspiciously, "Why are you helping me so much?" I ask out of the blue as I glance at the bag then back at him.

Kuchenko shrugs, "I don't know, maybe I want to see you seek revenge on the man you once loved. Maybe I don't trust Makarov and want him dead…or maybe I'm just in a generous mood. Really, I don't know." He replies, smiling widely.

I'm about to comment but the waitress from before enters the room in a haste. "S-sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but-the FSB and some shadow company soldiers are here." She gulps nervously. My heart stops, fearing I may have drawn unwanted attention when I entered the club.

Kuchenko mutters something hostile under his breath. He turns to me, putting on a bemused smile, "Looks like going through the front is out of the question." Kuchenko comments lightly, "Rose, follow this hall and go out the back. I'll distract them." He leads me into the hall, sending the waitress away. Kuchenko turns to me; a serious look crosses his face as he grasps my shoulders unexpectedly. "Be careful Rose, and Godspeed." He states calmly before turning away and entering the main room.

I sigh and continue the opposite way down the dark hallway. Flashbacks of my first meeting with Makarov hit me as I realize the uncanny similarities of this hallway to the one that my friends and I had been forced down three months prior. I heave a depressed sigh, feeling being surrounded by my frighten friends would be more comforting then adventuring down the hall by myself. Eventually I come upon the heavy exit door in a particularly dark dead end. Silently I slip through the door and into an alleyway. The alley is absent of all light, a broken light hangs off from the wall sharply. I shiver as I hurry through the alley. At the opening, I pause. Quietly I slide into the shadows as I watch a group of soldiers, speaking Russian, past by with another small force of men. _That must be the KSB and Shadow Company. Better keep a low profile…_When the soldiers disappear into the night life crowd, I walk out and down the opposite way. I keep my head down, avoiding catching any one's eyes.

A few blocks pass and I get the sense I'm being followed. I tense up, tightening my grip on my bag and walk faster to try and loose my persuader in the crowd. Just when I think I've lost the person, I feel someone grab me by my upper arm and force me around. I go into a frenzy, trying to break away. The man abruptly slaps a hand over my mouth

"Erin, chill out! It's just me!" reveals the familiar British accented voice of Ghost.

I breathe heavily, shaking slight at the scare as I force his hand off of my mouth. "Jesus, Ghost! I-I thought you were a KSB or Shadow company person." I gasp out, letting my heart slowly return to its normal pulse.

Ghost's eyes widen as he suddenly become uncomfortable. He glances around anxiously before steering me through the crowd. "We gotta go-now." Ghost hisses under his breath. I don't question his actions, knowing it was best to disappear ASAP. Ghost leads me down another street, his car parked inconspicuously with the other cars. I jump in, placing the baseball bat bag carefully in the back seat. Ghost enters into the driver's seat hastily, turning the ignition and speeding off.

I turn to Ghost, taking in his tense aura as he grips the steering wheel tightly. "What's up with you, Ghost?" I question, a serious expression sitting on my face.

Ghost lets out a pent up breath of air, not removing his eyes from the road. "Shadow Company…was the secret army Shepard had controlled. I guess they must have picked up our trail." He reports grimly, looking over at me, "You got the address?"

I nod, slightly taken aback. Wordlessly I type the address into the GPS? I stop, thinking for a second. "Ghost…why did you come back for me?" I ask quietly, my dark eyes staring at him in confusion.

Ghost sighs, relaxing slightly. "Because, I couldn't live with myself if I lost you again, after all that's happened. Besides, I knew you'd be able to do this without my help." He replies softly, slowing the car to a stop at a red light.

Out of the blue, I slap him on the face. Ghost winces, gazing at me in shocked disgust. But whatever stark remark he had disappeared when he sees the tears in my eyes. "You left me-alone. You of ALL people should know how much I HATE that feeling! I thought I lost you…" I choke out, crossing my arms and looking away in anger.

Ghost places a hand on my leg, drawing my attention to him. A genuine apologetic look clouds his face. "I know…and I'm sorry. I swear, I will never ever let you feel like that again." He lulls.

I gulp, rubbing the tears from my face. The light turns and we continue the drive. My hand intertwines with Ghost's, feeling the warmth of his hand warm my cold hand.

Author's Note: *straightens tie* Um, well. This is, weird.

I'm just going to start out and say this: I'm sorry for not updating in a helluva while. Life's been chaotic. But bam, I'm back! :) Its summer, school's out and that means free time. Now, I'm not going to promise I'll have new chapters up every week like I did last summer. That's just unreasonable. I'll try, though, not to procrastinate and have a new chapter up every 3 MONTHS. That's just unexcitable. Again, I do apologize.

Now that I think about it, there's technically only about 2-3 more chapters left in this story. Damn. Well hopefully that'll motivate me to work harder to finish this then.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please rate and review.

~EP


	40. Russian Roulette

Author's note: Sorry for the wait. For some reason, writing the last fight sequence took an extremely long time to write out. Personally, I think it's because that's technically the last fight of this story and maybe, unconsciously, I wanted to make it right-something that I can say I did right. :) Almost done, people. There will be a more dramatic monologue there. Haha. But, without further overly dramatic flair, I hope you enjoy this chapter of Russian Roulette. Please rate and review.

Also be warned, it's pretty lengthy.

'Russian Roulette'

Three Months later, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Rogue

13 miles from Moscow

After a long 48 hour ride to the abandon nuclear facility, Ghost stops the car just outside the limits. While I check my weapons of choice, Ghost accesses the ground plans of the facility. I fumble over the silencer Ghost gave me earlier for my gun, grumbling darkly about how much the object hate me. After a few discouraging attempts, I successfully attach the silencer to my gun just as Ghost motions for me to come over. I oblige, looking over his shoulder as he points out the key points on the map. "Alright, Makarov's most likely in the core of the facility. That's where the control center is located. Good news: there's only one entrance to the room. Bad news: we don't know how many troops are inside or if Makarov's even here." Ghost details grimly, the bad news outweighing the good news.

My eyes narrow as I squeeze Ghost's shoulder slightly. "No. He's here. He's confident that everything will play out. No doubt he wants to see this through." I murmur quietly, strong assurance backing my words.

Ghost shakes his head bleakly, "This isn't going to be easy then. We're going in blind-things could get ugly." He said, worry heavy in his British accent. I nod solemnly, choosing not to respond knowing how true his statement is. Ghost sighs, looking at me seriously. "The chances of us walking out of here alive are slim, Erin. Very slim." He adds.

"I know," I mumble dejectedly, looking up at the facility with new found hope, "But we can't let him win. More people will die because of him if we don't stop him here and now."

Ghost sighs, smiling haft heartily, "Even if that means going to the brink or further?" he states.

I glance at him briefly, "Yes. What ever it takes." I answer back, returning my gaze to the building a few yards away. _Makarov. It's time._

* * *

A few minutes later, after glancing over the blueprints of the facility one last time, Ghost looks over at me seriously. "You're wearing a vest, right?" he asks, out of the blue.

A smile slides across my face as I knock my fist against my chest. A soft padded sound is heard. "Yep, I'm good to go." I reply, placing my balaclava up halfway to my nose.

Ghost hands me a helmet, "You're going to need this. We won't want some dumb ass's lucky shot to bump you off." He said shortly.

Blinking, I take the helmet and inspect the protective equipment in my hands. I decide not to argue with him about it and place it on my head snuggly. But I keep the straps un-clicked. Ghost nods, placing a silencer on his gun, "Alright, let's get to it." He mumbles before turning and starting the stealth mission.

* * *

Throughout our stealth mission, Ghost leads-clearing the way of bad guys without raising any suspicion of our presences. Finally, we come to the door of the control center. Tension builds within me as I stand against one side of the door. This is it-all or nothing. Makarov stands, unknowingly, on the other side of this door. Ghost unscrews the silencer from his gun, nodding at me. "We're going in loud, might want to take off your silencer." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

I nod, removing my silencer accordingly. Nervous anticipation fills me as I want for Ghost to start this. I look at him, frowning seriously. "Good luck." I mouth. We share a nod before he places an explosive on the door.

Time seems to slow to a snail's pace as the explosive's timer slowly ticks down. I gulp, tightly gripping my AK-47 in expectation. At last, after what seems like eternity, the explosive bursts the door from its frame. Ghost and I swing into the room simultaneously. We mow down a good couple of soldiers before they fully grasp that they're under attack. "Flank them! I'll take the left, use the lab tables for cover!" Ghost barks, darting into cover.

I quickly scurry to the right, ducking into cover. Bullets hit the lab table I'm using as cover. I return fire blindly, running out of ammo. Quickly I replace the empty magazine with a full one. But before I can return fire, I feel a presence to my right. I swing my gun, ready to take down my attacker. But the man is faster. He kicks my gun out from my hand and I can only watch in pure horror as my gun slides away, too far to help me. My eyes dart to the attacker, fear present in my dark eyes as I stare into the cold unforgiving gaze of Viktor. Before I can even contemplate my next move, Viktor grabs me by the collar and sends me forcible across the lab counter in an old fashion Wild West bar slide. I loose the safety of my helmet and balaclava, forcing me to shield my face as I explode through different glass beakers on the ancient tables. The ride ends unexpectedly as I tumble off the end of the table and into a heap on the ground.

I groan painfully, dazed from the attack. In seconds, Viktor is by me and has grasped me by my collar once more. He slams me hard into the wall. _For a big guy, he sure can move fast! _Viktor's sharp eyes glower into my soul as a sick smile drifts onto his face. "Good to see you, cyka! Now I can show you all the different ways to kill you!" he snarls manically. I gulp, fear sliding across my face as he grips my neck forcefully. Grasping for air, I claw at his arms in a desperate struggle to get him to let go. Viktor's smile widens, pleased to watch me struggle. "Please cyka, there's no hope for you now. You're going to die." He said, laughing at my pain.

I grit my teeth as I start feeling light headed. My hands fall from my arms, lying limp against my sides. That's when an idea fades into my psyche. With my failing strength, I reach behind me to where my pistol laid behind my belt. Luckily, I hadn't lost it in the scuffle. With the little amount of strength I have left, I whip the pistol out and slam it hard against the side of Viktor's head. He yells out curses in Russian, loosing his grip on my throat to cradle his head. I drop down to the ground, holding my hand against my throat as my breath returns in pain ridden coughs.

"YOU…CYKA!" Viktor booms, kicking me hard in the side. I let out a yelp of pain as I cringe in pain. The angry Russian goes for another kick but I dodge it, spinning the barrel of my pistol and aiming it at him. He stops, blinking at me in agitated confusion.

A sly smile crosses my face as blood trickles from the corner of my mouth. "So…do you feel lucky punk? Think you can win this game of Russian roulette?" I sneer. _The ball's in my court now._

Viktor remains quiet, his anger building steadily. In the end, he explodes with anger and lunges at me. I pull the trigger simultaneously. Viktor lands hard, a few feet short of me, stone cold dead. I shake slightly before releasing a pent up breath. _He shouldn't just kept to convenient ways of disposing of someone…_I thought darkly.

The sounds of the on going shoot-out bring me back to the reality of the situation. I slip my pistol back into its spot on my belt and pick up my dropped twin uzis. From the quick once over, the guns look OK. I join the fight again, slowly advancing through the chaos.

A stroke of luck occurs for me when, after diving out of cover to avoid a thrown grenade, I find myself only a few feet away from the control panel to the armed nuke. A man faces away from me, fumbling over the controls. I leap up quickly and place the barrel of my gun against the back of the man's head. "Don't move or I swear I'll blow your freaking brains out." I growl starkly. The man freezes, placing his hands up in a tense surrender. "Turn around slowly!" I order, keeping my gun trained on him.

He obligates me obediently, turning around to face me. The man's face twists into a confused grimace. "Erin?" Anatoly starts, his words drifting off quietly.

I blink, breaking my harden gaze. "Anatoly? Well isn't this a lovely reunion." I comment dryly, glaring darkly at him.

Anatoly sighs, looking away. "Yeah…" he mumbles disheartedly, "You're going to kill me now, aren't you?"

I nod somberly, a feeling of sadness wash over me. Anatoly had always been nice, down to earth. He never raised his voice and didn't seem to have a bad bone in his body. But I have to remember he's working with Makarov, that he's the one programing the launch codes. And because of these facts, I couldn't just let him go. "Yeah…I am. You knew this day was coming, Anatoly. You were a brilliant man. I don't understand why you decided to do such a stupid thing." I said, referring to joining up with Makarov, with disappoint in my voice. I switch out my uzis with my pistol, placing my sights on Anatoly.

Anatoly smirks, "Guess I didn't know what I was getting into at the time." Replies knowingly.

I blink, frowning sadly as his words hitting a nerve in me. "Yeah," I reply softly, "Me too." With that, I pull the trigger and watch Anatoly fall back hard onto the control panel dead. Sadness sits awkwardly within me as I get lost in my thoughts. _'Guess I didn't know what I was getting into at the time.'_ That one sentence kept coming up in my mind, encircling my thoughts. Sadly, I realize he had made a reference to my own recruitment with Makarov. I sigh, running a hand over my face as try to blur out all that I've seen. But it's no use, what's been seen can not be unseen.

Out of nowhere, the sound of a man counting down alarms me out of my sadness daze. I remove my hand from my eyes and look to the panel. That's when I see the digital clock counting down from a minute. For a brief second, I don't know what to do. I snap my head in the general direction of Ghost. "GHOST!" I holler at the top of my lungs.

He appears shortly, looking at me, in confusion. "What, what's the matter?" he asks, keeping an eye out for any more bad guys.

I point to the count down clock. "THAT'S the matter!" I reply, "Do you know how to diffuse this?" Ghost nods, pushing Anatoly's body off hastily and goes to work to stop the nuke. I watch our backs, a sudden thought striking me. "Ghost, have you caught sight of Makarov?" I ask, glancing around the room.

Ghost shakes his head, not removing his eyes from the control panel. "No." he replies shortly.

I nod seriously, taking up my gun and looking to the darken corner where a ground of book shelves sit. "Alright. I'm going after him. I guarantee I'll have him dead." I murmur darkly. Slowly I make my way over to the shelves. I walk cautiously into the shelves, keeping my pistol up defensively. "Makarov! I know you're back here." I call out, no response.

"Makarov, just face the facts-it's _over_. You loose." I growl, checking carefully around a corner, "In three moves, you've been cornered. The first is the neutralization of Vorshevsky and thus the freezing of his money transactions. The 2nd move is the American troop movement inward to Moscow. Check."

A sly smile crosses my face, "And the 3rd move is occurring right now at this very moment. My associate is disarming the war head as we speak," I state starkly, abruptly skidding into a row, holding my gun defensively at the thin frame of Makarov, "Check. Mate." Makarov's mismatched eyes glare down at me forebodingly. I ignore his glare, a bemused smile crossing my face. "You loose." I hiss.

Makarov growls darkly under his breath, "So you think." He snipes sharply.

I laugh, "Please. You've lost, Makarov. Just accept it. You're at the end." I reply heartily.

The mad dog killer narrows his eyes at me. "I never loose." He scorns viciously, tightening his hands into fists.

"Well. There's a first time for everything." I reply shortly, unmoved by his hostile aura. I had him. Right in my sights! No way could I let him try and talk his way out of this. Knowing him, he'd try to use his words as weapons against me. With this knowledge, I keep my mind closed to any emotional attacks he may throw.

Makarov smirks, chuckling slightly. "I find it absolutely HILARIOUS how confident you are in believing you'll kill me so simply." He laughs, his cold eyes locked with my dark eyes.

I frown, "Watch me." I remark shortly before pulling the trigger on my gun. But nothing happens. Makarov stand unhurt in front of me, and that's when I grasp with horrible realization that I had shot an empty chamber at him. I blink, looking at my gun then at Makarov. Before I can remark jokingly about this, Makarov slaps the gun out of my hand and flips me onto the ground. I wince at the pain, glaring up at Makarov darkly. He smiles back sinisterly and pulls out his own pistol, aiming it at me lazily.

"Did you honestly believe I'd let you win just like that? I always win because I refuse to loose because I don't play by other's rules." Makarov reveals, smirking at me.

I roll my eyes, silently chastising myself for being so stupid as to believe he'd go down so easily. "I should have seen this coming…" I growl in defeat.

Makarov smiles. "Yes. But nobody can predict the future." He said slyly, "You never know what someone's going to do." I blink, trying to decipher his cryptic words but it all becomes clear when Makarov points the gun away from me to the direction of Ghost.

My eyes widen, looking from Makarov to Ghost. "GHOST!" I scream out. I watch in horror as Ghost whips around and Makarov lets off a shot simultaneously. The bullet hits Ghost hard and he falls in a heap on the ground. I feel a stabbing pain in my heart, not seeing any movement from Ghost. _Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! I should have warned him sooner! Ghost! _"N-no, Ghost!" I cry out in agony, feeling I've let him slip through my grasps again-but this time, it doesn't look like he's coming back. I glare murderously up at Makarov as tears threaten to spill, unable to calm my fiery rage. "I swear to God…I will fucking KILL you!" I spat harshly.

Makarov laughs heartily, angering me even more. "I don't think so." He replies, continuing to laugh. His cockiness finally causes my temper to boil over and that's when I blindly start throwing punches at him. In the end, Makarov avoids my attacks and kicks me back down on the ground. Within seconds, his hands close around my throat tightly, butting off my much needed air. I cough, struggling to free myself to no avail. "See, once I kill you, I'll launch the missile and escape. I'll frame it on you and your significant other." He explains darkly, continuing to crush my wind pipe in his grasp, "I always win, always."

"N-no!" I choke out painfully, starting to feel light headed. _I-It can't end this way! God dammit, I can't let him slip away! No…no, please this can't be it. _

Makarov smiles evilly, reaching for something while he keeps a tight grasp of my throat if his other hand. I try to squirm away but when I see the light glint off the gun I know it's no use. Makarov keeps the weapon aimed at me, giving me no chance of escaping. A dark smile fills his unshaven face. "Did you honestly think you could kill me with that stupid game of Russian roulette? It would have been awfully dramatic if it had worked but at last, chance was on my side. Too bad for you." He comments, pointing the gun at me, "Now, let's see how you fare against the probability of a full clip!"

I gulp painfully, closing my eyes as I know now this is it. _I'm so sorry. Ghost, Bob, my friends…I failed you, I failed my country and I failed myself. I'm sorry-_

Suddenly, I feel Makarov's grasp get ripped away from my throat. My eyes shoot open as I let in a large gasp of air, coughing violently. I roll onto my side, stabilizing myself with my arm as I slowly get use to breathing normally. My eyes dart up, trying to locate Makarov. An unusual sight greets me as I see Makarov fighting an unknown assailant. The assailant knocks the gun from Makarov's hand and I watch it skid past him and out of his reach. This enrages Makarov who en turns starts to attack the assailant viciously. The poor guy is being beat bad and I know it's only a matter of time before he's beat into submission. With the little strength I had left after all of the days events, I start to army crawl to the discarded gun. I'm about an arm's distance away from the weapon when the unknown man lands with a grunt near me. I freeze, looking over at the man. My head leaps in my chest. "Mactavish!" I cheer, recognizing the Scotsman. But my joy turns to terror in an instant when Makarov appears between Mactavish and me. With forewarning, Makarov plunges a knife into my outstretched hand. I gasp out in shocked pain, gritting my teeth against the suppressed scream in my chest. Makarov twists the knife cruelly in my hand I can't help but let out a scream of pain induced vulgar phrases out. Tears from the pain form in my eyes as I glare up at Makarov, semi defeated.

Makarov smiles, "Well I have to 'hand' it to you, you were so close to finishing me. But you'd have to be crazy to believe I'd 'hand' it out to you!" he jokes darkly, mocking my pain. He then turns away and dodges a punch thrown by a rather pissed off Mactavish. I watch in pained silence as Makarov easily slides away from Mactavish's throws. With my uninjured hand, I weakly pull myself forward, trying to ignore the screaming pain in my other hand as the knife keep it anchored in the ground. My uninjured hand is just shy of the gun and I curse under my breath as I try to figure a way to get the gun. Mactavish falls hard onto the ground from a sweep kick by Makarov. Makarov takes this opportunity and gets the upper hand, beating Mactavish relentlessly. I feel my heart race, knowing I have to act fast to help Mactavish.

My eyes slowly pan down to my hand and a last plan seeps into my brain. I gulp, wrapping my uninjured hand around the knife. With a pent up breath, I remove the knife swiftly. A jolt of new pain hits me, causing me to release the pent up breath in a sharp gasp. I gulp, discarding the knife. Makarov doesn't notice this action, continuing his fight with Mactavish. I crawl weakly the rest of the way to the gun. With my uninjured hand, I grasp the gun and smoothly flip onto my back with help from my elbow. I point the gun at Makarov's back. "MAKAROV!" I call out, causing him to stop mid swing.

He slowly turns his head to look at me, an emotionless gaze sitting on his face. He lifts an eyebrow. "Well. Looks like I underestimated your will power." He remarks neutrally.

I smirk, "Yeah…looks like you did," I state cunningly, aiming the gun accordingly, "Now let's see how you fair against the probability of a full clip!" I let off a well place shot watching it hit him just below the throat and exiting out the back. Makarov flails slightly as he slowly collapses onto the floor near Mactavish, choking on his own blood. I let out a sigh of relief as the dying gurgling sounds from Makarov die off, leaving an odd silence with an aura of sweet accomplishment.

Calmly I let the gun slip out of my hand and onto the floor. I let my head rest back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as I feel stuck in a dazed state. _He's dead, really dead. I just killed Vladimir Makarov. Something multiple people and organizations have failed to do. I won. I took down the king with a simple pawn. Damn, just…damn._

A shadow falls over me, drawing my attention to the maker of the shadow with light acknowledgement. Mactavish looks down at me solemnly. "Is he, is he dead?" I ask quietly, asking a question that I already know the answer to.

Mactavish nods, a tired look sitting on his face. "Yeah. He's gone." He replies softly, extending a hand to me.

I grasp it with my uninjured hand and allow him to pull me up from the floor. My eyes drift over to the lifeless body of Makarov. A feeling of nausea invokes me and I look away in disgust. I stand there in silence with Mactavish until he breaks it. "We'll have to have Price take a look at that." He comments seriously, nodding at my injured hand.

My eyes look down at it, raising it up to take a closer look at the wound. The knife had gone straight through and I cringe painfully at the simple thought of that. Hesitantly, I try to move my fingers. A jolt of pain rings out from my hand, causing me to shutter slightly in fear I will not be able to use my hand in the future. _Dammit. So you have the last laugh, Makarov, cheeky bastard. _Suddenly a thought hits me that literally cause my heart to stop: Ghost. _No…I wasn't fast enough. No, no he can't be dead! _I run out into the room and give a fleeting look towards the control panel where I last saw Ghost fall. But instead of seeing the dishearten sight of Ghost sprawled on the floor, I see him conversing with Price like nothing had happened. I blink, a smile dashing across my face as I become overcome with joy. I almost gave into my urge to run over and tackle Ghost but I compose myself.

Ghost notices moment out of the corner of his eye and glances at me, smiling brightly. "Hey chica, what's up?" He greets.

I smile, blinking back the tears of happiness I had. "Nothing much, I'm just glad to see you're OK." I reply calmly.

Ghost nods, jabbing a thumb in the direction of Price, "Yeah, thanks to Price. Good thing Makarov doesn't have good aim." He said confidently.

Price steps forward, a perplexed look sitting on his face. "Speaking of Makarov, what's become of him?" he questions curiously.

"Death, that's what's become of him." Reveals a Scottish voice from behind me that I recognize as Mactavish, "Thanks to Erin." I feel him put a firm hand on my shoulder in a sort of triumphant you-did-good-kid sort of way, drawing a genuine smile onto my face.

Ghost's eyes widen, a grin slipping across his face. "Mactavish?" he questions, taken aback at the sight of his fellow comrade's presence.

Mactavish nods, "The one and only!" he states proudly, gangster hugging his long lost friend, "Damn…I thought I lost you, man."

Ghost smirks, crossing his arms across his chest. "You weren't the only one. Besides, nobody can kill a ghost!" he remarks jubilantly.

I smile softly, watching the two old comrades' converse joyously. Price drifts by me, observing the two friends in quiet admiration. We share this moment in stark silence until Price cuts in, "I'm sorry." He mutters.

I blink, looking over at him in slight confusion. "For what?" I inquire.

Price sighs, glancing away as he scratches his head in embarrassment. "For not trusting you." He responds.

"Don't be. I would have done the same if the roles were switches." I omitted truthfully as I shrug my shoulders. My hand twangs in dull pain, making me wince slightly. I look from my hand to Price. "Since we're on talking, friendly terms, could you take a lot at this?" I ask, raising my hand to him. Faint hope floats in as I pray he's diagnosis won't be as grim as I think it to be.

Price examines my hand thoroughly. "What the hell happened?" he asks in shocked exclamation.

"Makarov." I reply, not hiding the venom that drips from my statement.

"Figures. Hmm, well from what I can see, the blade may have severely sliced into some of your nerves in your hand. Hard to tell." Price diagnoses negatively. _Just as I feared…great._

I gulp, taking my hand back and cradling it near my body protectively. Price and Mactavish's radios crackle to life, both men turning their attention to the small electronic communications devices. A familiar Russian accented voice rings out from the radios. "Price, Mactavish! This is Nikolai." The friendly Russian reports in.

Price unlatches his radio and clicks the talk button. "Nikolai. This is Price; status report?" he said officially.

"I think it's time we get the fuck out of here." Nikolai states shortly, tension in his voice.

Price blinks, looking at us then back at the radio. "And what has brought you to this conclusion?" Price asks slowly, confused at the Russian's suggestion.

We hear Nikolai gulp nervously. "Because, Shepard's men have arrived and are already starting to converge on the building." Nikolai reveals haste fully.


	41. Rising Sun

'Rising Sun'

Three Months later, Month 4

Erin Tanili

Rogue

13 miles from Moscow

Price's eyes widen as he looks from us to the radio in his hand in alarm. "What?" he screams, voicing the rest of our opinions on this situation.

Mactavish swears under his breath, loading a fresh mag into his gun. Quietly I drift over to Ghost with a petrified look plastered on my face. "How long till they reach this room?" Price demands into the radio, assessing the situation.

"Less than five minutes, my friends! I suggest you get the hell out of there!" Nikolai reports in.

Price replaces the radio on his persons and slaps a new mag into his gun. "Alright, gear up. We're moving out." Mactavish orders, checking the hall for any incoming shadow company soldiers.

Ghost looks at the pistol in his hands, "OK, but I'm down to only 4 clips." He states pessimistically. I scratch the back of my head, too embarrassed to tell them I have either managed to loose my guns or use up the ammo.

Mactavish shares a look with Price before looking at me. He picks up a gun from a dead Russian and tosses it at me. I catch it with both of my hands and swear sharply under my breath as the gun hits my injured hand. "Use that for now. If lucks on our side, you won't need to shoot." Mactavish states, rushing through his explanation, "Now let's move."

I quietly nod and we start off. Price leads the group out and down the hall to the right at a light jog. Mactavish covers our backs and I try my best to keep up with Ghost. Shots are fired from behind us, ricocheting off the walls and ceilings. I crouch and run to avoid getting hit as Mactavish and Ghost shoot at our attackers while continuing to run. Mactavish suddenly trips, falling onto the ground. Ghost doubles-back to provide cover fire for his down friend. I stop and look from them to Price who's still running. "Price! Mactavish is down!" I yell to the older man, ducking as a bullet whizzes past my head.

Price skids to a stop and glances back quickly. "Ghost knows what he's doing. That's all the help he needs. We need to keep going!" he orders, urgency in his British accented voice as he continues to run now but at a faster pace.

I gulp and follow his order, running after him to try and catch up. Something tells me we're gonna get an earful about leaving them behind soon. A couple minutes later, Mactavish and Ghost have caught up with Price and me when we stopped to wait for them. "Thanks guys, we totally didn't need ANY help back there!" Mactavish growls sarcastically.

_What did I tell you. _I roll my eyes, ducking to avoid a stray bullet. "Don't thank me, Mr. Leprechaun, thank Price over there for suggesting that you guys were perfectly fine." I answer back snootily.

* * *

Eventually, after winding hallway after hallway and up countless stairs, we enter the roof. Nikolai's helicopter sits a short distance away, the Russian already starting up the helicopter's blades. Halfway into our dash to the helicopter, bullets hit the ground near our fear. Mactavish swears colorfully and swings back around to lay down cover fire. Ghost stops abruptly, adding to the cover fire. He grits his teeth, "Mac, we don't have the time or the resources to hold them all off!" Ghost yells starkly, changing clips in his gun, "Last mag!"

Price has made it to the helicopter but turns to face the on coming army and Mactavish who's gearing to kill every last one of them for destroying his team. "Soap! Get you ass in gear and stop trying to be a hero!" The old Brit calls out. Mactavish growls before he nods and picks up the pace as the rest of us climb in the helicopter.

The Scotsman lets out a final burst of shots before scrambling into the slowly ascending helicopter. With the confirmation of Mactavish's presence on the helicopter, Nikolai takes the helicopter up and flies it out, narrowly avoiding RPG fire.

* * *

Once we're out of Russia's boarder, we all breathe a little easier. I sit next to Ghost and Mactavish, silence evoking us. Price has taken up the shot gun seat and sits in reflection as eh stares out over the clouds. Sometime between take-off to our current position somewhere over the Ukraine, Mactavish bandaged my hand. I look over it, glad to have it be my left and that was injured and not my dominant right. My eyes slips up away from my hand and widen as they catch the gorgeous sight of the rising sun. The darken clouds have turned from their usual dark grey dye to a lovely red-ish purple that would soon flower out into the white ocean of clouds and blue sky. I sigh and lean my head back against the wall, rubbing a hand across my face. _It's over…Jesus Christ, it's over! _I almost don't believe my own thought, but the proof was self evident. Shepard was dead, Russia was loosing the war-signaling the obvious fact that the end of the war is fast approaching, and Makarov is finally dead.

_But at what cost? _I thought negatively. _Killing people, hurting those closest to you and inevitably loosing your self…In the end, was it truly worth it? _I pause and glance up at Ghost and smile softly. _Yes, in a sort of twisted way, yes. Because I know now what I didn't before, I know a lot but mostly I know who I can trust._

He notices me looking and turns his head to me, returning my smile. "What's got you smiling?" he asks bemused.

I let a smirk overtake my soft smile. "Nothing. Just thoughts and memories." I said quietly, moving close to him to rest my head on his shoulder. I gaze out of the window at the rising sun. I remember, back three months ago, how I had taken in the new moon and applied the meaning of it being the start of a new, dark beginning in regards to my time with Makarov's team.

Now, as I look out on the newly risen sun, I feel a new sense of hope set in. A hope that things will return to normal, a hope that all the chaos is done and a hope for tomorrow.

For now, I can walk away from the game and cash in my chips. After such a long, stressful round, I come out as the winner in this chance driven game known as life.

A word of advice. Life is much like a game of Russian roulette. You can either dodge the bullet or get hit head on. There is no leeway; there are no do-overs, what you get it what you get.

So good luck, you're going to need it.

* * *

Epilogue

Months have passed since Makarov's death. A lot has happened. I almost don't know where to begin. But I guess it's best to start with the beginning. Once Nikolai landed us in the United States, we were apprehended for treason in regards to defiling Shepard and ultimately killing him. (Though, as I'd like to point out, I had nothing to do with the latter. I may have brought the files to Makarov and weeded the truth of Shepard's location, but that was all simply circumstantial evidence.)

And so, the trial of the century started. It was quite a fiasco; both sides pleaded their cases very hotly. But in the end the flash drive, given to me by Makarov, proved to be the solid piece of evidence needed to acquit us of all our charges.

I had my hand checked out once we hit state side, revealing the grim facts that my hand had suffered severed nerves. The doctors did their best to repair the nerves to a point. From there, I had been recovering and going to rehab to slowly regain the workings of my hand. It was a painfully slow process, but I eventually got back some of the use of my hand. I never gained back 100% of it, which pissed me off the most. Because of that fact, I wasn't able to return to my junior ROTC training. So it looks like the only job in the military I'd be eligible for would be a desk job. Wonderful…

* * *

After my recovery, I returned home to a hero's welcome which I honestly believe I didn't exist. It was good, though, to see my friends again-to see that they were OK. That's all I need to know. I don't need a hero's welcome when I look at them and know they understand what I've been through.

* * *

Soon after the trail, Mactavish and Price were put in charge of the newly formed international task force, named task force 324. Price jumped up to Lieutenant General of the forces, Mactavish ascended into colonel and Ghost was promoted to Major.

I've never seen anyone as happy as them in my whole life.

* * *

A couple months later and I find myself sitting on a park bench, over looking the soft waves of Lake Michigan as they roll up on the rocky coast. I've found myself coming to this spot more often, simply to sit and reflect. Most days, I sit there alone. Today is no different.

The light breeze coming off the lake rustles the leaves on the trees and blows through my hair lightly, causing me to shiver.

_Cold winters…_

I brush the hair out of my eyes and gaze up at the grey sky. Its strange, almost impossible, to think that war had ravaged America just a few months ago. I sigh, looking away from the dismal sky and instead choose to watch a leaf flutter across the ground. _It's best I forget that, otherwise it'll be harder to move on with my life. _A young couple passes by in front of me; the man hugs the girl close. They gaze into each other's eyes lovingly and are still able to walk along the path with ease.

I sigh, a pang of heart ache hitting me. Seeing couples like that makes me aware of my own relationship status. I turn away and look at the other side of the empty bench sadly. _Ghost…oh how I miss him. I hope he's OK-wherever in the world he is._ Someone approaches me, just out of my sight line. "This seat taken?" asks the man, hiding something in his voice.

I raise an eyebrow and sigh. "No, I'm afraid it's not." I start, glancing up at the new arrival but stop dead in my tracks when I see the familiar sharp green eyes and brown crew cut of Ghost. A wide smile crosses my face as I feel my heart nearly leap out of my chest. "Ghost! You son of a gun, do you always have to be so mysterious?" I laugh heartily.

Ghost smirks, taking up the empty part of the bench. "Yeah, I do. But that's why you love me." He said softly, placing an arm around my shoulder.

I sigh happily, moving in closer to him and laying my head on him. "Of course." I respond softly.

We sit together like this for a bit, staring out at the lake in silence. "How do I breathe when you're not by me?" I question quietly, sad undertones in my words.

Ghost shifts and draws my chin up to look at him. "Simple. Just breathe for me. That's the greatest gift you could possibly give me." He answers firmly.

I nod, smiling as I gaze up at him. "If that's my greatest gift to you, then do the same for me." I remark cunningly.

Ghost smirks, "As if anyone could stop me. Deal." He states, kissing me on the lips softly.

I sigh and lean against him, staring out across the lake. The sun has broken though the clouds, brightening up our surroundings. I smile, realizing that no matter how long the dark clouds casted over us, the sun would always break through.

_Always._

For we believe in tomorrow, we believe in the hope of a better future. Future where evil men don't exist. That we all live happily ever after.

But that's not what life is. Life is divine chaos. Good exists because evil exists to show us what good isn't. So, we're stuck in perpetual war between good and evil. We walk a fine line between the two and must be careful not to be led into temptations. You have to seek the truth first then dare yourself to believe and avoid the death the dark holds.

Life has a crazy plan for us all and we have to try and keep sane while we're in it.

In the end, all we can really do is live in the moment and hope for tomorrow.

The End.

* * *

Author's note: *cue 'sweet victory' song from spongebob* Oh hell yeah. Finally, after more than a year of writing this, after countless ups and downs, Russian Roulette is finally over. There were many pit falls, story line misconceptions and brain farts, but that's all in past.

All that matters now is that it's finally over. Honestly, I can't believe it's over. I had some good times with writing this story and some times where I literally wanted to shoot myself. But in the end, it's good to see this story finally come to a close. Because, this was my last story involved in the Call of Duty franchise (Not including the stories I'm doing with Jacob, i.e. COD cribs, tale of roach). When you put most of your time and energy into writing a story like this, it really tires you out-mentally and physically. Plus doing another story like that previously, its pure mind suicide.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed this story. I really appreciated every single review I got, especially the anonymous reviewers. Thank you all for taking the time to read and review my story. Even those who read but didn't leave a comment, thank you. :)

So, I guess this is it. It was great run. But everything must come to an end.

*salutes* Erin Peepsta, out.

(Virtual cookie for anyone who gets the multiple references at the end of this chapter.) :)


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